


Captain Cold and Me

by Jael



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/M, Superheroes, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Sara Lance, unbeknownst to her high school classmates, has connections to some of Star City's most popular super-powered heroes--but no powers of her own. Then the mysterious Captain Cold saves her from an attack…and does his best to convince her that he’s not the bad guy everyone seems to think he is. And maybe not all of the "good guys" should be trusted...





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonydreams/gifts).



> Author's note: This story is a weird amalgamation of things. It started when I saw a book titled "The Supervillain and Me" (by Danielle Banas-check it out!) on the YA shelves at Barnes & Noble. That, of course, gave me CaptainCanary vibes. After I bought and read it, they were even stronger. I posted about that on Tumblr, and people encouraged me to write the CC high school AU I was considering.
> 
> So I did! It takes the skeleton of the book (which is very much its own thing-again, read it!)-at least at first-adds some (very adapted) Arrowverse characters and plots, and stirs it up with my own weird imagination. I own nothing of this but my own words, and I make no money off it.
> 
> This will be six chapters (all but one already complete), posted one a day until Tuesday. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta, and to SylvanHeather and Pir8grl for their thoughts! And happy birthday to Dragonydreams!

“Sara! Sara, did you hear?”

Sara Lance closed her eyes in resignation as she heard the footsteps of Felicity Smoak, her best friend, hurrying up behind her in the halls of Star City’s Kanigher-Broome High School. She loved Felicity, she really did, but she knew what was coming here, or suspected at any rate, and she really didn’t want to talk about it.

Felicity, however, was going to tell her anyway.

“Principal Hunter got a special guest for the assembly today,” she said breathlessly, adjusting the strap of her backpack where it was slung over her shoulder, swiping her dark hair with its blond roots out of her face. “Do you know who it is?”

Sara could guess.

“Nope,” she said, however, continuing to stroll toward physics class. “No idea. Fliss, did you finish your lab report yet? I want to ask Dr. Stein…”

“Sa-ra!” Felicity actually stomped her foot. “This is important! Don’t you think it’s probably a super? Should I go fix my hair? Redo my makeup before the assembly? We need to get there early so we can get a seat!”

Felicity had a real thing for supers—and the top team in Star City right now was the Black Canary and the Green Arrow. Sara’s friend had a massive crush on the Arrow (maybe on the Canary too), but she didn’t know what Sara did: That the Black Canary was Sara’s annoying big sister, Laurel, and the Arrow was Laurel’s rich-boy boyfriend, Oliver Queen.

Sara had known Laurel and all her quirks since birth, and she’d known Ollie for nearly as long as she could remember. It was tough to be awe-inspired by the girl who continually left sopping-wet towels on the bathroom floor or the boy who’d once been so helpless without servants that he’d kept buying new underwear rather than admit he didn’t know how to use the washing machine.

They’d both acquired their powers (for Laurel, a sonic scream, flight and a degree of invulnerability, and for Ollie, perfect aim, a literal inability to miss his mark, in addition to greater strength and agility) at about the same time, a handful of years ago, around their 16th birthdays, just like most supers. While Sara’s parents had made sure Laurel had a chance to learn and become accustomed to her powers, they’d balked at letting her take on the role of a public superhero despite her wishes.

Oliver hadn’t even entertained the notion, as far as Sara knew. He’d happily used his aim to win drinks in darts tournaments at Star City’s (not so) finest bars, and his strength to impress girls who weren’t Laurel.

Until the day everything changed.

It’d been an assassination attempt, everyone said, one that targeted both Commissioner Quentin Lance and Ollie’s mother, Moira Queen, who’d been mayor at the time. A massive earthquake centered on the old City Hall, undeniably unnatural, as it hadn’t affected anything outside a relatively small radius. At first, everyone had suspected a super gone rogue, before investigation had revealed the device detonated by a disgruntled former police officer.

Quentin and Moira had survived. Dinah, Sara and Laurel’s mother, who’d been on her way into the building to meet her husband for lunch, had not. Neither had Tommy Merlyn, Ollie’s best and oldest friend and the son of Moira’s deputy mayor. He’d been sitting on the front steps, waiting for his perpetually late friend to show up.

They didn’t have costumes or names yet, and they wouldn’t go patrolling for a few months. But in many ways, that was the day the Black Canary and the Green Arrow were born.

And then there was Sara, just a few years younger. Sara didn’t have powers. She had a second-degree black belt—about to test for third--but no powers.

It wasn’t good enough. It would never be good enough. Sara sighed. Felicity, unaware of her thoughts, elbowed her.

“Come on!” she said. “Earth to Sara Lance! What do you think?”

“I think I want to skip it,” Sara muttered, shifting her own backpack.

“Skip English class?” Felicity blinked at her. “That’s not like you.”

Apparently, Sara had completely missed the thread of this conversation. She sighed again. “No. Never mind.” She gave her friend a onceover. “You look fine. And we get there early if you want. Just don’t expect me to squeal and wave and go all fangirl with you.”

Felicity grinned and gave her a one-armed hug. “Sara, I just don’t get you at times, but you’re the best.”

“You know it.”

* * *

Felicity (and Sara) had guessed right. The Green Arrow in his hood and green leather and Black Canary in her black leather and domino mask had strolled out onto the stage at the assembly, exhorting the students not to bully each other and to stay in school, etc., etc. Sara had rolled her eyes so hard they hurt, while Felicity did indeed squeal and wave and go all fangirl. She was still gushing when the assembly let out, and they headed for what Principal Hunter called the senior Creators Club—and Sara privately called Kanigher-Broome’s catchall hangout for Star City’s young, social and slightly geeky.

Sara’s father didn’t really like her being home on her own any more, not since…since her mother died. He was still concerned that the would-be killer (who had died in prison last year) hadn’t acted alone, and that the whole family could be a target. Quentin not only went armed as part of his commissioner duties, he often had an entourage with him at all times—and Laurel was the Black Canary. Sara was…just Sara. So, to keep her dad happy, she stayed at school a little longer, working on whatever homework or projects came her way, chatting with Felicity and other classmates, pretending things were…normal.

“Did you see? The Green Arrow winked at me, Sara!” Felicity did a little dance step in the corridor on their way toward the senior lounge, dodging students headed in the other direction. “He did! I swear it. Right at me.”

Ollie had probably been winking at Sara. He knew perfectly well that she hated when he and Laurel made appearances at her school. “Mmhmm,” she agreed absently. “That Green Arrow. Quite the flirt.” Ollie was a flirt, or he had been. The Green Arrow was anything but.

“Do you think I should go blond again?” Felicity stopped, facing Sara, wrapping her fingers around a tendril of her hair and holding it out to inspect it critically. “I like the goth-y look,” she commented, starting to turn to head toward the lounge again, “but…oof!”

She collided right with a tall, thin boy, knocking his bag out of his hands and knocking her own glasses off her face. Grasping desperately for them, she grabbed the edges of his worn black jacket instead, the glasses clattering to the floor. The boy reacted with a startled noise and stepped back, tripping over his own bag, making a faint sound of pain as he did so.

Sara stepped forward in concern, reaching out to steady him, even as Felicity stooped and felt around for her glasses. But he caught himself without incident, shaking his head, and Sara stopped wondering if she’d imagined that pained gasp.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

The boy, who had dark, very short hair with what might even be a few glints of premature silver in it, was still looking aside, stooping to reclaim his bag.

“I’m all right,” he said in a low tone as he straightened. “Really. Thanks.”

Felicity gave a cry of victory and stuffed her glasses back on to her face, standing again. ”Sorry!” she told the boy cheerfully, then frowned. “Wait. Do I know you?”

He gave an almost curt shake of his head, looking at Felicity, then finally glancing at Sara. His eyes—an icy blue that was so striking that Sara sucked in a breath--widened, and he turned away abruptly. Sara blinked, watching him duck into the senior lounge. He’d been quite good-lucking, really, she thought. Those cheekbones and eyelashes were totally unfair in addition to those eyes.

“Sara! _Sara_!”

Felicity would keep Sara-ing her until she responded. With a sigh, she looked at her friend, who was still gaping at the door to the lounge. “What?”

The other girl looked upset, for some reason. “Don’t you know who that _was_?”

“…no?” The boy had looked vaguely familiar, though everything about him—his hunched shoulders, his downcast eyes—screamed that he didn’t want to be noticed.

“That was Leonard Snart. _Snart_ , Sara!”

The world stopped. “Oh.”

Snart. The son of Lewis Snart, the crooked officer who’d tried to arrange for her dad’s assassination, who’d rocked Star City with the explosion that had killed her mother and so many others. For a moment, Sara couldn’t breathe. The memories were still so strong…the search for survivors, the hunt for suspects, the news that’d trickled out about motives and targets. The trial, which had, mercifully, been extremely brief.

“How do you know?” she asked numbly, stepping to the side to let other seniors by. “I mean. I know he had two kids, a son and daughter. But neither of them went here…before…”

Felicity sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her gaze was sympathetic and troubled.

“Remember that hackerspace thing I was involved with a few years back?” she asked. “Over in the East Side? I ran into him there once or twice. Never talked, barely knew his name. He’s a quiet kid. It took me a minute to recognize him here. He shaved off his curls.” She glanced away. “It’s not like I was going to bring it up after. But…Snart. Sort of a memorable name.”

“Yeah.” Sara stood, frozen, another moment, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he had anything to do with it. I just…I thought both of them went into foster care in Central. I remember reading…”

She’d once read the articles about the case obsessively, determined to figure out if anything could have saved her mom, could prevent something like that from ever happening again. She’d always wondered if Laurel or Ollie could have, if they’d been using their powers for hero-ing back then. But it was the kind of thing she’d never had the heart to ask.

“I know.” Felicity’s voice was low. She sighed again. “I can’t figure out why he’d even want to come back here.”

“Um. I might know something about that…”

Both of them turned at the sheepish voice behind them. Barry Allen, shuffling his feet, gave them an uncertain grin. Felicity squeaked and put her hands on her hips. She’d dated Barry briefly, but while it hadn’t lasted, they were still friends. And as Sara well knew, withholding information was majorly against the Felicity’s-friend code.

“Spill, Allen,” she said, fiercely enough that Barry paled a little.

“Well, not really the _reasons_ ,” he clarified, switching his gaze to Sara, his cheeks a little pink. She smiled despite herself. Barry was such a lovable dork. “But some of the story behind it.”

Felicity folded her arms and fixed him with a glare that was probably supposed to be intimidating, then gave him a regal nod, as if to tell him to carry on with it.

“My dad met him, Snart—uh, Len—in Central City, when he was there doing some, ah, charity work.” Barry continued. Sara remembered that his dad was a doctor, and that his family was originally from Central. “His little sister, she’s happy there, in school, with a good family, but Len wanted to come back here to at least finish school.” He bit his lip. “Dad helped him with the emancipation paperwork. I don’t know where he’s living, but he’s come by our house for dinner once or twice, at my parents’ insistence. Doesn’t talk much.” He sighed. “Be nice to him, OK? He’s had a rough road, but he’s an OK guy. There’s good in him.”

His pleading gaze was on Sara, who really had no intention of holding Leonard Snart responsible for his father’s misdeeds. She nodded, then smirked, deciding to try to lighten the mood a little.

“Aww,” she teased. “Gotta crush on him, Barry? He _is_ really cute.”

Barry blinked, then turned pinker. “What? No! Uh. Not that I have a problem with that.”

Barry and his current girlfriend, Iris West, were currently the leading contenders for most likely to get married right after graduation. It was just a lot of fun to tease him about it.

Felicity got a particularly evil look on her face, but Sara, still smirking, cut back in.

“Of course I’ll be nice to him,” she said, then sobered. “Having a horrible parent doesn’t make him a bad person.” She nibbled her lip a little, thinking. “He’s kinda one of his dad’s victims too, in a way, isn’t he?”

Barry nodded, growing serious himself. “Yeah. I mean…he hated the guy. _Hated_. It’s not like he’s talked about it, really, but…”

“Join the crowd,” Sara murmured, as Felicity nodded next to her. “No worries, Bar. In fact…”

She shouldered her backpack, took a deep breath, and headed for the lounge. “In fact, I think there’s something I need to do.”

She could hear Barry and Felicity following her, but she ignored them, stopping in the entrance and scanning the room. There. The dark-haired boy was sitting by himself at a table in the far corner, pulling a laptop out of his much-abused bag and opening it on the table. He glanced up as she approached, a flash of something darting over his face, and Sara felt a pang of empathy.

“Hey,” she said as he met her eyes, his own gaze opaque. “I just wanted to say, sorry about my friend. She’s a klutz.” She took a deep breath (ignoring Felicity’s protests behind her), then held out her hand. “I’m Sara Lance.”

The boy—Leonard—held her gaze for a long moment, then stood. He _was_ tall, Sara thought, eying him. And…yeah. Cute. Hot, really. Mm. He didn’t look like a senior in high school. College student, at least.

“Hey,” he said in return, so quietly that she could barely hear him. “It’s OK.” He shrugged. “It was an accident.”

“Your laptop’s all right?” Sara darted a look down at it. It was an old machine, she thought. But that didn’t mean it didn’t mean a lot to him.

“It’s fine.” The corner of his mouth tugged up a little, a tiny little smile, but a smile nonetheless. Sara felt like she’d won a victory. Then he reached out and took her proffered hand.

A firm, calloused grip, one that didn’t back down because she was a girl. Sara liked that. And he didn’t seem to find her gesture overly formal because they were only in high school. His handshake was steady, and so were his eyes, and damn…

“Leonard Snart,” he said so quietly that she could barely hear him.

“Pleased to meet you, Leonard,” she said quietly in return. “Glad you’re OK.”

* * *

She’d been pulled away from Leonard nearly immediately, and that was OK too. Felicity had wanted to talk about the physics lab she’d been uninterested in earlier, and then to gush about the Green Arrow and the Black Canary some more. Then Barry and Iris had come over, asking about the upcoming talent show, and she’d gotten distracted again.

When the club hours had ended and they’d all been told to go home, Sara glanced around, but Leonard Snart was already gone. She shook her head, then bade other friends farewell and walked with Felicity toward the parking lot, where the other girl turned to her.

“Do you need a ride home?” Felicity asked, a touch distractedly. “It’s no problem. I can drop you off on the way.”

Felicity drove like a bat out of hell. Sara loved her friend, but she was actually glad to have an excuse not to trust her life to the Fliss-mobile today.

“Nah. My dad is actually home tonight. He wants us all to have dinner together, for once,” she demurred. “Should be here soon.”

Felicity gave her a cheerful wave, then headed toward her old Cobalt, peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. Sara shook her head, then checked her phone.

Nothing. But after only a few moments, it chimed. Sara, watching the other seniors trickle out one by one, checked it again.

“Sorry, honey,” her dad texted. “Stuck here late. Can Felicity give you a ride?”

Sara bit her lip. Why hadn’t he sent that a few moments ago? But she’d thought that this dinner thing might actually happen. She could text Laurel, but her sister and Ollie almost certainly had something more important going on. Hero-ing and whatnot.

“Sure,” she texted back after a moment. “See you later.”

Then she started for home.

It wasn’t a long walk, really. But with the level of violence in Star City these days, neither her dad nor her sister usually liked her walking home alone, especially not later in the day. Whatever. Sara had a black belt. She could take care of herself. Her grip tightened on her backpack. Right? She’d be fine.

Sara was crossing the railroad tracks just outside the edge of the Glades when she heard the footsteps. Two people, at a guess. Well. People went for walks here too. Probably. She listened, heart beating just a little faster, then scanned the street ahead of her. Stores and other businesses closed down early here these days. Nothing seemed to be open, and traffic was nonexistent.

She picked up the pace, just a little. The footsteps picked up too. And then they were three sets. Four?

Sara abandoned her pretense and ran. There had to be someplace she could duck into, she thought, her own heartbeat echoing in her ears. There had to be!

A male voice behind her called out something in a snarl. Sara didn’t look back, pelting down the uneven sidewalk, scanning the quiet street, wondering if she should yell or...

Someone grabbed her backpack, jerking her to a stop, and Sara kept enough presence of mind to turn fighting. She lashed out at the man with a hand, fingers stiff, jabbing toward his eyes and connecting. He yelped, putting his hands to his face, and she pulled away, turning to run ahead.

But there were two more men there, young and scruffy, thin and looking a bit strung out. Sara didn’t hesitate. She struck out at one’s face, then kicked hard at his kneecap, sending him tumbling to the ground, then rounded on the other, who gaped at her a moment, apparently stunned by her reaction.

Sara drove her foot into his groin without a flicker of sympathy, stepping past him as he folded, drawing a breath to run again. She’d done it, she’d defended herself, she could...

The first man, however, hadn’t been as down for the count as she’d hoped. An arm looped around her neck even as she took a step, pulling her back again, and...damn. Something cold and metal pressed against the skin just under her right ear, something sharp.

“Money!” her captor hissed in her ear, arm tightening. Sara could hear the groans from the other two, interspersed with cursing. She tried to take a deep breath, thinking about what she had in her bag.

“I don’t have any,” she said after a moment. “I don’t! Really. Look!”

“Yeah, right!” The knife pricked harder...but then the man did move it, reaching down toward her bag, and his other arm loosened just a little.

Sara took advantage of it. She stomped on the instep of his foot, hard, then threw an elbow right into his solar plexus when his grip loosened. He crumbled and she turned to run again, taking a step, then two...

“OK, pretty girl, freeze!”

There had been a fourth man. And he had a gun. Which was now pointed right at her head.

Sara froze.

The man was to her right, but she could see him, and the gun, out of the corner of her eye. He held it steady and seemed far more calm and competent than the other men. Which made him far scarier.

For a long moment, he studied her, then let out a snort of laughter. Sara wanted to bristle at the derision...but she didn’t dare move a muscle. Supers were said to have a sixth sense about people in trouble, and while Laurel and Oliver said it was nebulous and impossible to measure, there was a measure of truth to it. Surely one of them would come to her rescue? It would be mortifying...but at this point...

“Someone will pay ransom for you,” the other man said, finally. “Girl like you in a place like this? Someone’s gotta be looking for you.” He chuckled again. It was not a nice chuckle. “Maybe we’ll even give you back. Maybe not.”

Sara took a slow breath. She couldn’t let this man just kidnap her. And she had to move before the other men regrouped. They were all getting to their feet, muttering to each other.

Then there was a noise to her left, a thud as if of someone landing on the ground. A sense of chill. Sara nearly looked, hoping for Laurel or Oliver, but the gun was still pointed at her and...

“Duck—and close your eyes!”

This isn’t the time to look a gift hero in the mouth. Err, something like that. Sara did as she was told, dropping to a knee and squeezing her eyes shut.

The blast of cold came from the left, so close to Sara’s face that she could feel the frost forming on her eyelashes. Somewhere, a corner of her brain registered that was new, that there wasn’t a super with ice powers in Star City, or none that she knew of. (Or that Felicity knew of, which was even more conclusive.) She heard yelps from the men and the crackle of what seemed to be ice, and braced for the crack of a gunshot...but none came. Just more thuds, as if of bodies falling to the ground.

“OK. You can look.”

Sara opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the four men, all stretched out on the ground, all covered by a sheen of frost. A sigh of relief escaped her lips even as she flinched, wondering.

“Are they...”

“They’re just out...cold. You all right?”

Sara looked up.

The figure in front of her, extending a hand to help her up, was no one she’d ever seen before. Black pants, black boots…and then a blue parka over the top, fur-fringed hood pulled up over his head. His face was obscured by a pair of goggles, but a smile tugged at his mouth as he looked at her.

“It’s OK,” he said, keeping the hand extended. “I don’t bite. Unless it’s frostbite. Heh. Maybe that’s a potential name.”

Bad puns. Why did supers love them so much? Sara stared at him long enough that the smile fled, but he kept the hand held out to her.

Male, from the voice. And about her age, also from the voice. Sara frowned, trying to place it, but then took the offered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Um,” she said. “Thanks. Really. I thought I had that, but...the gun...”

“I saw. You were badass. I just figured I should help out.” The tone was admiring. And he still had her hand. Sara looked down at it, noting that he also wore black gloves, but the super let go then, taking a step back courteously.

“You’re new,” she said, still a little shell-shocked. “Ice powers. That’s...new.”

“Yeah. Sort of.” The boy...man?...walked over to the four men and studied them. “I’ll alert the cops that they’re here. They’ll thaw out soon enough. We should get going...hey, wait!”

Sara had already turned away and started walking as fast as she could, not quite running. The super caught up to her easily, though, jogging along next to her, glancing her way.

“That was really impressive,” he said. “What...what’s your name?”

This guy, hero or not, was starting to annoy her. Sara frowned at him, although she kept walking.

“I said thank you,” she gritted out. “What do you want?”

“Just making conversation.” He almost sounded hurt. “Hey, like you said, I’m new. Thought maybe...”

“You thought wrong.” Sara took a breath and stopped. “Look. Iceman, or whatever your name is...”

“I think that one’s taken.” The drawl was amused. He smirked at her, an infectious expression, and she almost smirked back. But...she already knew far too much about two of the city’s main supers. She didn’t need, or want, to know any more.

“Thank you,” she said again, trying to project sincerity. “Truly. Now, I have to get home.”

He nodded, but didn’t move, the smirk fading into something more...wistful? Somehow it touched a chord, and Sara studied him a moment longer, intrigued despite herself. Then, cursing her curiosity, she turned and headed down the street.

And that jerk kept following her.

“I could see you home,” he said.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You _are_ fine,” he retorted. “But I can still make sure you get there...”

“Goodbye, Iceman.”

A sigh. Then: “Goodbye, Sara.”

She whipped around, but he was gone already, apparently faded into the trees at the side of the street in one of those near-patented super moves.

Ass. Sara studied the trees, curiosity surging again, then turned and headed home as fast as she could, feeling the irritating sense of someone watching her the entire way. She made it in the door, slamming and locking it behind her, then dropped her backpack on the floor and closed her eyes.

She’d been rescued by the world’s most infuriating superhero.

Par for the course.


	2. Heroes and Villains

Sara was sitting on the living room couch, eating a bowl of microwaved mac and cheese and brooding about strange supers with parkas and oddly sexy smirks when she heard a certain echoing trill outside, and then the light noise of someone coming to a landing.

There was a reason her parents had moved them to this fairly remote house after Laurel’s powers had appeared. Sara continued eating her dinner as the front door opened and her big sister strolled in, immediately peeling off her black domino mask and the blond wig and dropping them to the floor unceremoniously. Laurel sniffed the air and looked immediately toward Sara, hope in her eyes.

“Ooooh,” she said, the long sigh ending in a yawn. “Tell me there’s more of that? Please?”

Sara jerked her thumb toward the kitchen without comment, and Laurel’s eyes brightened. She headed for the kitchen immediately, while Sara eyed the discarded items and sighed. She loved Laurel. She even loved Ollie, like an adopted, obnoxious big brother. But sometimes it felt like they were so caught up in superhero stuff that she, the non-hero of the family, was just assumed to be the one to pick up the pieces. Sometimes literally.

Laurel must have taken a moment to stop in her room, because when she moved back into the living room, she was wearing her favorite beat-up pink sweatshirt and ripped jeans, instead of her Black Canary garb. She plopped down next to Sara on the couch, tucking her feet under her, and stuffed a big forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth. Sara hid a grin. Her big sister, the classy superheroine.

She didn’t hide the grin very well. Laurel saw the expression and rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.

“Times like this,” she said after a moment, first forkful consumed, “I’m really glad I can fly. That way Ollie can’t get here and inhale everything before I get dinner.”

“I _heard_ that.”

Oliver, one-time rich playboy, now hardworking superhero, stopped just inside the door and sighed, stripping back his hood and dropping his quiver and bow to the floor. (Sara sighed too.) He sniffed the air too, then visibly brightened.

“Change first!” Laurel commanded, pointing a finger at him as he took a step forward. She didn’t back down when he gave her a rather woebegone look completely at odds with his heroic image. “Better yet, shower. I’m not sitting here and watching that silly ninja-warrior show you like with you if you reek.”

Ollie pouted. There was really no better word for it. Sara, openly smirking, wished Felicity could see her super idols now.

“You didn’t,” he pointed out, eyeing Laurel’s obviously dry hair. “Shower.”

“I’m a lady.” Laurel stuck her nose in the air like a parody of a high-class snob while Sara giggled. “I don’t sweat. I sparkle.”

Her boyfriend grumbled to himself but headed for the basement. Sara was gratified to see him pick up his weapons before he did so.

Oliver Queen had moved in with them when his mother left town after…after everything. Moira Queen had wanted no further reminders of the city she felt she’d failed, but in the ruins of the old City Hall, her son had discovered a desperate ambition to learn how to use his powers and become a hero. And, as far as he was concerned, it had to be in Star City. For Tommy’s sake.

And probably for Dinah Lance’s, too, Sara thought. He’d known the family for years, and he’d brought years of growing pains to Dinah and Quentin Lance when his (now-deceased) father and proud, always-busy mother hadn’t had the time or inclination to help. Sara remembered his expression at the funeral, nearly as shell-shocked and lost looking as Laurel and Sara, and the tears rolling down his face at the cemetery.

For some reason, at that moment, she thought of Leonard Snart’s startled blue eyes, and the pain and stress she’d sensed behind them. Then she shook the impulse off.

Oliver’s little sister, Thea, had grudgingly gone with Moira, but Quentin, somewhat to Laurel and Sara’s surprise, had assured the former mayor that her son would always have a home with them if he’d cared to stay. And he had. Very much. Even after his mother had warned him she’d put him on a strict “allowance” from the Queen family fortune.

Now, Oliver lived in their finished basement, which he jokingly called the ArrowCave. He’d gotten more or less accustomed to living without endless supplies of cash or servants to cook or clean up after him. He really did work his butt off protecting the city—and he was, so far as Sara’s discerning eye could tell, utterly devoted to Laurel at this point. The long days and nights of patrolling and fighting together (and the shared grief) had cemented their bond, and while Ollie was still a flirt, he (and the Green Arrow) always came home to Laurel.

(Sara wasn’t sure if her father hadn’t really thought through the ramifications of having his older daughter’s superhero boyfriend living on site, or if he just didn’t really care. Well, she really didn’t care either, as long as they kept it out of her view. And hearing. Most definitely out of her hearing.)

Sara used to have a bit of a crush on Ollie, to tell the truth, but that had fled quickly in the clear, harsh reality of living with him. And his smelly superhero laundry. And his constant dumb jokes. And his frat-boy ability to burp the alphabet.

She’d already decided not to mention the attack on her way home—or her encounter with Star City’s newest super. At least, not really. But she couldn’t resist fishing a little…just a little.

“Laurel,” she said, staring at the TV, which was playing some sort of absurd sitcom about fake superheroes. “Do you know of any supers with…ice powers?”

Laurel lifted both eyebrows, a very big-sister expression that was somewhat spoiled by the smear of cheese on her nose. She wiped it off, thinking a moment. Laurel had become something of a student of supers throughout the years, something Sara knew well.

“Well,” she said finally, “there have been a few over the years. I don’t know of any active at the moment. There was one of the first supers, way back during World War II…and then that fellow during the ‘60s outside New York City—I think he’s still seen, from time to time. And that woman from Norway. Oh! And there have been stories of a woman in Central City with snowy powers for decades, but they’re erratic.” She looked thoughtful. “I actually think maybe it’s been more than one woman. As many as three? But I’d need to study…”

Sara nodded, thinking the history aspect had successfully distracted her sister from wondering about the origin of the question, but then Laurel narrowed her eyes and glanced at her, and she knew she hadn’t been so lucky.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “See someone new in town?”

Busted. Sara grasped for a response. If parka guy was indeed a new super, this ruse wouldn’t last long, but it could work for now. “School,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been thinking of...starting a project. Looking at the types of supers who’ve appeared, and when. The combinations of powers. I know elemental types aren’t the most common, but they’re not the rarest, either.” She warmed to the subject despite herself. “And the ones whose powers aren’t as quantifiable...or minor...”

Laurel was distracted...but not quite in the way Sara had intended. “Sara...” her sister said with a sigh, sitting down her empty plate on the table. “Is this about the heroes without powers thing again? Because you know the ones who sometimes seem that way always wind up being powered in non-obvious ways.” Her lips quirked a little. “Or having so much money that they can throw it at tech that makes them seem like they have powers.”

Well. At least she was distracted. Sara sighed. “I know, I know,” she muttered, looking down at her own empty plate, then looked up, glad for her own distraction when Oliver stomped back up the stairs, humming to himself, out of his Green Arrow garb, hair still damp. “So, anything interesting today?” There’d been no major crises with injury (well, thanks to parka guy, anyway), so it seemed safe to ask.

Oliver had already vanished into the kitchen, but Laurel laughed a little. “Miss Samson’s cat was up a tree again,” she said, smirking. “I think the poor thing likes Oliver!”

“Miss Samson or her cat?”

“Both!”

Ah, the glorious life of a superhero. Sara laughed too, then sighed, thinking of the newcomer she’d met. Would he be pulling cats down from trees soon? What else could he do with those powers? Build ice ramps? Shields? Or just knock out would-be kidnappers?

_Goodbye, Sara._ She was a little creeped out that he knew her name, and probably where she lived—she was pretty sure she hadn’t imagined that out-of-sight escort on the way home. But she was intrigued too. It was an uneasy mix.

“There _was_ an attempted robbery outside the café on Howard and Zimmerman, but the perp didn't even have a real weapon.” Ollie plopped himself down on the couch between them, massive plate of pasta in hand. “He was just trying to fake it. Piece of cake. Laurel didn’t even need to leave her lunch with your dad.”

Sara looked down, frowning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal with her father. Dinner tonight would have been the first time in...weeks?

Laurel cut in, though, apparently sensing Sara’s mix of ire and disappointment. “Dad wanted to talk to me about doing another photo shoot with Oliver tomorrow,” she told her sister apologetically. “Something to show people there really is a counter to all the violence and crime in Star City. You know: Look! Come to Star! We have superheroes!” She shrugged. “I mean, all big cities do, really.”

“But Star has the most attractive ones,” Oliver added, grinning. (Sara rolled her eyes and neglected to mention that he’d gotten cheese in that mustache he was attempting to grow, which in her opinion looked more like a caterpillar with mange.) He leaned over her and winked at Laurel. “Your dad really shouldn’t have nixed the fishnets for your costume,” he said, grinning—and ducking as Laurel threw a balled-up napkin at his head.

Ollie dropped his plate and lunged for her and Laurel giggled and Sara, rising with an eye roll, decided that this might be a good time to head to her room. She had homework anyway.

But every thought of math problems and history readings vanished when she ran the small scrap of white fluttering from her bedroom window. Sara retrieved it with trepidation and a weird thrill, reading the words written there in metallic blue ink.

“Pleased to meet you today, Sara. See you again soon.”

* * *

The next morning was one of those when Sara went into her martial arts studio to train a bit before classes. She’d changed studios about a year ago—in part, to avoid running into Nyssa, an ex who trained at the other site, and in part because she didn’t like the tone the philosophy there was starting to take. Nyssa’s father ran that studio, and while Sara was all for harsh practicality when it came to self-defense, she’d heard him say some things she just didn’t agree with.

She showered and changed at the quiet studio, then headed for school. She heard the distant sound of sirens but didn’t think much of it. There were always sirens in Star City.

Later, she’d wonder why she hadn’t checked her phone, but at the time, distracted by other thoughts, she never even thought of it. Not until later, when she noticed the way other students were clustered around each other just outside the high school, the signs of distress and even tears, and then Felicity running down the steps toward her.

“Did you see?” the blond girl asked urgently. “Sara, did you _see_?”

Sara blinked at her. “No?” she asked, stopping. “What’s going on?

“New City Hall! It’s on fire!” Felicity pointed, and Sara spun, gasping, realizing where that faint scent of smoke had been coming from. She’d figured someone was illegally burning garbage nearby. It was farther away...but far, far worse. A plume of inky smoke rose toward the sky from the center of the city, dark and somehow malicious, and Sara felt like her heart was going to stop.

She fumbled her phone out of her pocket, nearly gasping in relief when she saw a text from her father already flashing there.

“Im OK,” it said. If her dad was dropping punctuation, he really was distracted and upset. “Breakfast meeting today dontown, almost noone in building yet. GA&BC got them out. Everyone ok”

Then another text appeared: “Well catch this guy sweetie. Tell your friends not to worry.”

“He’s OK? Your dad?” Sara looked up and nodded, and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief, then reached out to catch Sara’s arm. “C’mon! They’ve got a TV set up in the cafeteria. The security company offsite pulled some of the outside footage already, and someone gave it to Channel 4.”

“So...arson?” Of course it was. It couldn’t just be an electrical short or someone leaving something unattended in the kitchen. Sara bit her lip and followed her friend into the school.

The cafeteria was packed with students who should have been in classes—but even the teachers were here, too, watching and talking quietly to each other. There were tears in no few eyes, Sara noticed—probably not for this crisis, so much, but because it was bringing back clear memories of two years ago, when the center had dropped out of everything. Sara noticed Leonard Snart, his face set, in a corner, staring at the TV. As if he’d felt her gaze, he looked over at her, and they exchanged a glance of what Sara thought was commiseration. They both knew the feelings this trouble was bringing up.

The anchor on the screen was speaking, but the buzz of conversation in the room was so strong that Sara couldn’t hear what she was saying. But as the image on the screen changed, and the pulled security footage started playing, everyone stopped talking to watch.

And nearly immediately, Sara could hear her heart pounding in her ears instead. Because she recognized that tall figure as it extended a hand toward a lock on a door at the back of City Hall. Knew what it meant when a blue-white flash covered the lock, and when the figure drove his foot into it, kicking the door down. He looked up, right into the camera, showing his hooded head and goggles, then lifted a hand and iced over the camera. Dimly, though, the watchers could still make out his figure striding into the building. The building that was now on fire.

“Who was that?” Felicity asked, her voice loud in the stunned room. “Sara...is that a super?”

And then everyone was talking at once. Everyone who wasn’t Sara. Sara couldn’t find the words.

Her annoying superhero—who knew where she lived--was a supervillain.

* * *

Star City had never had a supervillain before. Most criminals were just run-of-the-mill opportunists, with a sprinkling of more dangerous types—like Lewis Snart—with a personal ax to grind and, somehow, the resources to cause a lot of trouble. (Sara had always wondered where, precisely, a disgraced police officer had acquired the know-how and parts to build a device like that. No one had ever really answered that to her satisfaction.)

A villain with super powers? That was bad. That was truly scary. Who knew what someone like that could do?

Video from inside City Hall couldn’t be obtained, destroyed or obscured in the blaze. Mayor Merlyn gave a live address on TV that night, blaming the fire on the super who’d been seen entering the building through the door with the iced-over lock. The commentators on the news bantered back and forth about whether the man—they’d all decided it was a man—had ice powers _and_ fire powers, but such a thing was unheard of. There were plenty of ways to start a fire, after all, but everyone had seen him use ice powers.

They started calling him “Captain Cold.”

Both Oliver and Laurel, who’d worked all morning making sure the fire crews were safe and that there really was no one stuck in the building, were exhausted. The Flash, a speedster hero who was most often seen in Central City, had even arrived to help, picking up the pieces, getting as many records and files and other items out of City Hall as possible. Not everything had been utterly destroyed—in fact, parts were nearly unscathed, except for a bit of water damage—but the building was considered dangerous enough at the moment that only a speedster was cleared to go in. The mayor’s office in particular had been gutted.

Quentin Lance looked…well, he looked numb. To Sara’s shock, he was standing in the kitchen when she got home that night, staring at a handful of somewhat battered papers spread out on the table. He looked up as she entered, and she hesitated, then crossed the floor to him, dropping her backpack and hugging him, hard.

For a moment, he hugged her back, just as hard, and it was almost like it’d been once upon a time, before he’d withdrawn into work and his burning need to keep the city safe. But then the door banged closed, and Sara heard Laurel’s voice, and her dad let her go, turning to his superhero daughter and raising his voice in a question.

Sara sighed, closing her eyes. Then she opened them determinedly. Things were different now, that was all. It wasn’t about her.

“Couldn’t find him,” Laurel was saying, weariness in her voice. “There have been a few sightings, apparently. Nothing…nothing bad, really. In fact, the opposite. Helping a kid whose bike was being stolen. Getting food for a single mom and her kids and icing it down so they could get it home. It makes no sense.” She pulled off her mask and her gloves and rubbed her hands over her face.

Sara, listening, frowned. Why would one person do such wildly varied things? But before she could say anything, Oliver staggered into the room, dropping into one of the chairs with a groan, and the three residents of the Lance household who weren’t Sara were all talking about villain lairs and thermal imaging and warning systems…

“Are they sure the…the guy who froze the camera is the one who started the fire?” Sara cut in, before she’d even realized she was going to say anything. “I mean. There’s only the video of him breaking in. Right?”

Big mistake.

The other three stared at her like they’d forgotten she was there. (They probably had.) But then Laurel’s eyes sharpened, and she pointed at her sister, ignoring the question but focusing in on the detail that Sara had hoped she’d forgotten.

“You just asked about ice powers. Yesterday!” Laurel exclaimed. “Sara…do you _know_ something?”

Their dad made a noise that sounded like a cross between disbelief (and that was just a little insulting, really) and concern. Oliver simply tilted back his back and eyed her. Sara spread her hands and shook her head, scrambling for words.

“No!” she said, even as she wondered why she didn’t just _tell_ them. “It was just a stupid coincidence. I was thinking about the whole elemental thing…how studies show that powers appear together…”

But they were already talking amongst themselves again, Sara apparently forgotten. With a sigh, she picked up her bag, and headed for her room.

* * *

Of course, she couldn’t sleep.

Between the stress of the day and the connotations of that “see you again soon,” Sara was so on edge that she gave up on slumber pretty quickly, curling up with a book and trying to convince herself that was no way whatsoever that the newly named Captain Cold would actually find her here. Surely, he’d have bigger problems, like hiding from supers and the police or…or burning own more buildings…

Why would he want to burn down City Hall to begin with? Sara frowned at her book. Nothing made sense.

But despite everything, her sixth sense (not a superpower, sadly, not at all) came though. She was just trying to decide if she should shut the lights off and try to sleep when there was a scratch at the window.

Then another.

And then the window slid open—even though Sara knew perfectly well she’d locked it. And the hooded head of Captain Cold poked through.

Sara promptly threw a knife at him.

Her aim was good. And it was a sharp one, too, and could have done some damage if it connected. She saw his mouth form an “O” and then he threw his hands up, icy mist emerging from them and somehow slowing the knife to nearly a stop. He then plucked it out of the air, even as he climbed the rest of the way through the window and faced her.

_Damn_. Sara bounced to her feet, considered yelling, then fell into a fighting stance, watching him.

Captain Cold gave her a look that somehow came across as incredulous even though she couldn’t see his eyes. He tossed the knife to the surface of her bed and folded his arms.

“Ex- _cuse_ me?” he demanded, in that insolent drawl. “I saved your life yesterday. Why are you attacking me?”

Sara’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? You’re in my bedroom!” She lowered her voice but continued to speak furiously. “Uninvited! And you burned down City Hall. I saw you! You’re a…a supervillain, Captain Cold!”

That got a huff of laughter. Captain Cold pulled the hood back, revealing…another hood, a form-fitting white one that covered his head. He left his goggles on, concealing his eyes, but the edges of his mouth tilted upward in a smile.

“Probably not the name I would have chosen,” he mused, leaning against the wall. “But it will do.”

Sara stared. “You seem,” she said carefully, “to be ignoring the important part of that.”

Cold shrugged. “The fire was sort of an accident.” He crossed his arms. “It wasn’t supposed to get quite so out of hand. My…well. I needed a distraction.” He shook his head as Sara struggled with all her questions. “I need your help.”

Sara blinked, feeling like she’d completely lost track of the situation. “Why the hell would I help you?”

Cold smirked at her. “You could have raised your voice instantly and had someone here to help you,” he pointed out, correctly. “You didn’t. You know I’m not a bad guy. Not really. And you’re intrigued, Sara Lance.” He chuckled as her eyes narrowed again. “Yeah. I knew you were the police commissioner’s daughter. I need someone with an in at the city government. And you’ve got that in…and the nerve, the brains and the curiosity.”

Sara promptly pulled a knife out of her other sleeve and threw that one at him, too.

He put up a hand and slowed it almost nonchalantly this time. The blade fell to the carpet with a tiny “thud”

“I’ll tell you more later,” he told her, turning back toward her window. “I just…just wanted to check in. To tell you…” He glanced back at her and hesitated. “…that I’m not…quite what they’re saying. OK? I just want _someone_ to know that.”

Sara should scream. She knew it. Laurel and Ollie and her dad would be here in a second, and they’d capture this supervillain, this arsonist, this…

“I don’t like not being able to see your eyes,” she said before she even realized the words were coming out.

Cold tilted his head, watching her. “Would it help?” he asked finally, reaching up, his fingertips brushing the strap of his goggles.

“It might.” Eyes were a major tell, not only for martial arts but for so many other things.

Cold nodded. “So noted.” He started to duck out the window again, then paused, looking at her.

“There’s something else going on in Star City, Sara,” he told her. “Something rotten. And I’m going to find out what it is.”

And then he was gone.


	3. Battle Wounds

Sara was dragging next morning. Well, she’d had about four hours of sleep, if that. Even after Cold had left, she’d stood there, staring at the open window, trying to figure out if she should be running to tell her father…or just wondering what the hell the super was talking about.

She yawned hugely as she walked up the steps to school the next morning, cup of takeout coffee clutched in her hand. Laurel said she was young for a caffeine addiction, but Laurel had a super’s healing abilities and need for little sleep under most circumstances. Sara needed her coffee.

Felicity didn’t meet her this morning, but Sara knew her friend spent Friday mornings at one of the local elementary schools, working with other high school computer students to teach younger students coding skills. Sara herself had an honors study hall, during which she was supposed to be working on some sort of special project too—although she hadn’t figured out precisely what that was going to be yet. She sighed, dumping her empty coffee cup into the trash and making a quick stop at her locker before heading to the library-attached workspace where the study hall took place. Most of her other friends were already working on their projects, many out of school like Felicity, but she hadn’t settled on anything.

She nodded to the few others in the room and signed in, then drifted toward the back and the bank of computers. To her surprise, there was someone else there, someone else frowning at a screen before he glanced over at her, then paused, eyes widening.

Leonard Snart recovered quickly, though, giving her a nod before looking back at the screen. Sara nodded back, taking a machine a few chairs down and logging in. She sighed as the home page came up with a local newspaper’s headlines of the day listed down one side. The top one was “Fire investigation continues” with “Who is ‘Captain Cold?’” right underneath it.

Leonard glanced back at her at the noise. Sara wondered if she was bothering him, but he didn’t seem annoyed. Instead he just watched her a moment silently before speaking again.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked quietly, looking back down at his screen.

He’d get it, wouldn’t he? Sara actually found herself smiling a little, sadly. His memories of the destruction of the first City Hall would be particularly painful too. And yet here he was, reaching out to her.

“Managing,” she said, turning to him and resting her chin on her fist. “You?”

A tip of that dark head in acknowledgement, and the edge of his mouth twitched up a bit, as if he was a little surprised and pleased she’d recognize his own crappy associations. “Managing,” he echoed, then hesitated and added, quietly, “Thanks.”

Sara gave her own head tilt of acknowledgement. He did have the most amazing eyes, she decided thoughtfully, then realized she was staring.

But Leonard didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he studied her in return--and she could just about see the moment he realized her interest was personal and directed at _him,_ as himself…and as not the son of Lewis Snart. Those gorgeous eyes grew warmer, and the edge of his smile quirked up just a little more, making him look even more attractive and far more approachable.

How had that unpleasant-looking man produced a son capable of exuding so much charm? It took a lot to fluster Sara, who’d had to come to grips with who she was attracted to when she first started falling for Nyssa--while still being attracted to a few of her male classmates. And she wasn’t—quite—flustered now, but she was a little surprised to feel a kernel of not-platonic-at-all interest uncoiling inside.

Which would probably not go over well with her family. Or anyone else, really. Still, Sara let the moment of connection stretch out longer than she probably should have. In the end, they both glanced away at once, Leonard clearing his throat, Sara glancing back at her computer. She looked back again when she heard the crackle of paper, though, and couldn’t help but smile as he extended a pack of mint gum like an offering. She took a stick—they weren’t supposed to have gum in here, but no one listened—and peeled off the silvery paper.

“Are you doing an honors project?” she asked. “Um. I know you just transferred in…”

Leonard shrugged, folding a stick of gum himself and popping it into his mouth, then looking back at his own screen. “They said it was early enough in the year that I could try for the honors diploma if I wanted,” he said, tapping a key. “I don’t have a real concentration yet. Something involving law or engineering.” He tossed her a slight smile at the amused noise she made. “I know, big difference there.”

It felt good to get him actually talking to her. “Yeah, well, same here,” Sara told him. “I’m thinking law…or some sort of social science.” The ways supers dealt with their powers and how other people related to them fascinated her for obvious reasons, but he didn’t need to know that.

That got a “mmm” of interest. “I’m leaning toward law,” Leonard told her. “Um. Family law.” He shook his head while she digested that with a pang of empathy. “I was sort of thinking I could look into an internship in the local courts, but…”

The family court had been located at City Hall…and while it hadn’t been damaged as much as some areas, it was still closed, the schedule thrown into disarray. Sara nodded in understanding.

“I could help piece together some of the records they pulled out, but…” He sighed. “But no one’s going to let me anywhere near anything related to City Hall,” he continued, a trace of bitterness in his tone for the first time. “I suppose I can’t even blame them.”

Sara studied him for a long moment as he tapped away at his computer. Then, without letting herself think too much about it, she spoke, “Would you like to try to work together on something? A project? Something to do with that. I…ah. I have an in.”

“ _And you’ve got that in_ ,” a low drawl said in her memory. She told it to shut up.

Leonard blinked at her, the surprise and shock on his face totally unfeigned, as far as Sara could tell.

“Seriously?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you want…why would you trust…”

“Why not?” Sara bit her lip, then, for the first time, evoked their shared history in a more blatant fashion. “You’re _not_ your father.” _And you’re as much a victim of his acts as my family was_ , she thought.

Leonard’s face darkened a moment, then cleared as she continued to regard him. Still, he looked down at his hands, where they rested on the desk.

“You don’t really know me,” he said finally.

“Not yet. But I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Sara looked down at her own computer. “Think about it, anyway? No pressure.”

He drew in a breath, but then…

“Sara! Do you know where Nate…oh, hi!” Ray Palmer came to a halt beside her, and Sara sighed. Ray was well known for his crappy timing. But everyone forgave him for it, because he was also one of the nicest guys nearly everyone had ever met.

He was also, Sara suspected, one of those rich guys-who-could-throw-money-at-tech that Laurel had mentioned the other day. His longtime girlfriend, Anna, had died in a robbery a few months before the City Hall quake, and Sara knew it still affected him profoundly, enough that sometimes she wondered if Ray’s preoccupation with technology had an ulterior motive. He was working with the Star City division of S.T.A.R. Labs for his own project, and he wouldn’t yet tell anyone what, precisely, he had in mind.

“Ray,” she said, with fond amusement, “Nate is at the historical society today. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Ray deflated a little, looking at Sara, then bounced back. “Well! I’ll just tell him later. Jax? Amaya? Felicity?”

Ray had dated Felicity too. That one hadn’t ended quite as well as Felicity and Barry, but they were still friends.  “Jax is interning at the city engineer’s office. Amaya’s at the humane society. Felicity’s teaching coding to kindergarteners.”

“Right.” Ray sighed, then glanced at Leonard, who was leaning back in his chair and regarding him with a mixture of amusement and trepidation. “Uh, sorry. Was I interrupting something? Who are you?”

From anyone else, it might have seemed to be an insult. From Ray, delivered in that tone of affable bewilderment, it was just…Ray. Leonard blinked, then shook his head and glanced at Sara, obviously uncertain how to respond.

“Ray Palmer,” Sara cut in, “this is Leonard Snart. Leonard, Ray Palmer.”

Ray stuck his hand out and Leonard shook it with an expression of great bemusement as Ray beamed at him. It was hard to tell if he didn’t remember who Lewis Snart was, didn’t make the connection with Leonard, or just didn’t care. With Ray, it could have been any of the three.

“Hi!” he said brightly. “Pleased to meet you.” Then he looked back at Sara. “Are…uh. Are you and Felicity still seeing Kendra soon? Will you tell her hi from me?”

Kendra Saunders was, as far as Sara knew, the last person Ray had dated seriously. A year older than them, she was now studying at Goyer University at the other side of the city. Felicity and Sara had a standing date with her to visit the Egyptian Festival at a local church, and the event was coming up.

“We are, and we will,” Sara told him gently. “You’d be welcome to come with us.”

“Um, no.” Ray rubbed at the back of his head. He’d want to avoid the possibility of seeing Carter Hall, Kendra’s current boyfriend, Sara knew. “But thanks. See you later, Sara…Leonard. I gotta go see Dr. Stein. Gotta thought on this lab…”

And with that, he wandered out, still musing quietly about science, and Sara and Leonard watched him go. Then Sara shook her head and looked back at the computer.

“He means well,” she said with amusement. “And he’s really smart. He’s just…Ray.”

“I can see that.” Leonard shook his head again, too, looking at his hands, then back at Sara.

“Can I get back to you on that?” he asked quietly, picking up the thread from before. “The project?” He hesitated even as she nodded. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to be the type of person who uses people.”

Now, why would he think… Sara frowned.

“ _I_ offered,” she pointed out.

“Still.” He studied the desk a few more moments, then glanced back up. “And call me Len. If you want.”

“Len. Well…let me know. Len.”

* * *

Time passed, as it does, and although people still talked about Captain Cold as the perpetrator of the City Hall fire, no one saw the hooded, parka-clad figure again for a few weeks. There were a few more incidents blamed on him, but Sara, reading news stories and watching broadcasts, saw no reason to lay them at the icy supervillain’s feet. Not when they had nothing to do with ice…and no motive at all past money or other material goods. That just didn’t seem to be his style.

After his mysterious and dramatic goodbye at her window, she was just a little annoyed at his absence, really. Seriously? Refer to “something rotten” at City Hall and then just…vanish? Jerk.

Well, Sara was busy enough without supervillain drama. She trained, she hung out with her friends, she helped Laurel and Oliver as best she could, which generally came down to helping patch up scrapes and sometimes helping them train. She did manage to finally have dinner with her dad, who told her earnestly about some new public safety campaign Mayor Merlyn was going to be announcing, although he couldn’t really give her any details.

She and Leonard continued their slow, careful circling of each other, discussing possible projects and getting coffee together once. She wasn’t quite certain what they were circling around, precisely. Friendship? They were already there, as strange as that might seem. Partnership? Could be. Something more? The attraction was there: on both sides, it seemed.  Sara had one notable moment of questioning her instincts after he’d casually mentioned an ex-boyfriend, but it turned out that he was, rather like her, amenable to attraction to more than one gender.

But neither was in a hurry, and Leonard was still notably guarded about most of his personal information. The tentative circling continued.

As much as Quentin Lance would like to keep his younger daughter wrapped up and safe, he couldn’t make sure she stayed at home or school (or the martial arts studio) all the time. And a few weeks after the fire at City Hall, she and Felicity on the city monorail line, headed for the northern burbs and Kendra’s college, looking forward to a day spent scarfing down some excellent falafel and nut pastries before heading out for a movie and maybe some dancing.

Felicity was going on wistfully about how she was missing out on a Green Arrow meet-and-greet at the library, and Sara was distractedly commiserating with her—and neglecting to tell her she probably wouldn’t miss much, because at the merest suggestion of trouble, Ollie would be _out_ of there. He hated meet-and-greets, although he at least paid lip service to the ones her father suggested. Staying in good with the public was simply part of being a super. It meant the people got to keep an eye on their heroes and, nominally at least, that the heroes got a close-up view of who they were serving. Part of a delicate dance, really, but it’d been going on longer than Sara, or her parents, had been alive.

But that didn’t mean Oliver had to like it.

Sara was staring out the window and letting the flood of chatter wash over her when she felt what seemed, at first, just like a faint jolt in the track. She frowned, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed it. A few others were also glancing around, but Felicity seemed oblivious, and so was most everyone else.

Then it happened again. More people seemed to notice now, including Felicity, who stopped mid-word and stared, wide-eyed, at Sara. Then again. Sara pulled her phone out of her pocket, planning to text Laurel…

And then, _BOOM_.

The car jerked, and people screamed. Some jumped to their feet, only to tumble as the car lurched again. Sara bobbled her phone, but caught it—still, the car was shaking so bad that she couldn’t type. She tucked it back in her pocket grimly—Laurel and Oliver’s super sense of trouble had almost certainly alerted them already--and tried to see what was going on.

They were right over the Starling River. Because of course they were. Sara craned her neck and tried to see the front car, with no luck. Was that smoke? It looked like smoke…

And then the car lurched forward again…and started to slide and list off the track.

People screamed. Felicity threw her arms around Sara’s neck, and Sara closed her eyes despite herself as they were thrown again the wall. All her training, and in the end, there wasn’t a damned thing she could do.

And then someone else screamed.

Sara’s eyes popped open at the sound and the car shuddered to a stop--at an angle at which it really shouldn’t be stopping, gravity still being a thing even in a world with supers. Felicity’s eyes popped open too, and she stared at Sara at close range, mouthing a name. Sara turned her head just enough to peer out the window next to them.

And there was Laurel, in full Black Canary garb, arms outreached, hovering in midair and screaming for all she was worth, the soundwaves emitting from her super-powered vocal chords holding the car in place. Sara had just enough time to register that her sister couldn’t keep that up for long when there was another noise, barely audible over Laurel’s scream and the sobs and shrieks of the people in the car. A cable snaked around the car and then it started to lurch backward, back up onto the track, settling down with a groan of metal.

Sara hadn’t seen the arrow that’d pulled that cable, but she was pretty sure that’s what had happened. Ollie had arrows that could arc like that, she knew. And maybe she was in a little bit of shock, because that was a sort of meaningless observation at this point…

After the car was steady for a moment, Felicity let go of Sara with a shudder, sitting down on the nearest seat with a thump. Sara just stood there, staring out the window, trying to breathe. Then the door of the car opened with a shriek, and Laurel stepped on board, ignoring the cries of relief while looking around with wide eyes.

When those eyes met Sara’s, Laurel drew in a huge breath, letting it out in a rush. She started forward, seemingly uncaring about all the spectators, stopping only when Sara gave a warning shake of her head. She’d remember the need to keep Laurel’s secret, even if her sister didn’t.

Laurel didn’t stay quiet, though. “Are you _OK_?” she asked urgently. “Sara? I knew you were on the train…”

But then Oliver was there, too, jumping down and alighting in the doorway and motioning to Laurel.

“It was Captain Cold,” he said tersely. “There was still ice on the tracks, and then I saw him running. I think I tagged him.” Oliver gave Sara a nod, then turned and leapt out of the car. Laurel gave Sara another look, then turned and followed him.

Sara let out a breath. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t, she thought distantly. Right? The boy who’d saved her before wouldn’t have…

The emergency crews were here now, and people were starting to crowd together the doors, the babble of panic and relief rising. Sara stayed where she was, planning to let the press subside, and Felicity stayed with her, staring off into space with an expression that, Sara thought, didn’t bode well.

She was right. After a moment, Felicity turned and looked at her, determination (and a measure of uncertainty) in her eyes.

“Why did Black Canary call you Sara?” she asked. “And why did she sound like…”

Sara could see the moment the reality set in. Felicity stared at her. Sara sighed, then nodded. There was really no point in denying it right now, she thought.

Even more, though, she could see the moment the realization of the Green Arrow’s identity registered too. Felicity knew Oliver. He was a lot more...prosaic...and annoying...than her mental image of the hero.

“Ohmygod,” Felicity said, lowering her head to her hands. “Ohmygod. Seriously?”

Sara sighed, not without sympathy.

“Well,” she muttered, watching people file out of the car. “That canary’s out of the cage."

* * *

Quentin Lance was there when Sara and Felicity emerged from the rescue boat that’d ferried them back from the accident site, wrapping his younger daughter in a hug before calling for a young patrolman to take them both home. Felicity, still shell-shocked more by the revelation than by their possible near-death experience, had gone quietly, and Sara had texted Kendra to let her know what’d happened. They’d reschedule the get-together, at least...if her father ever let her leave the house again...

She’d rattled around the house by herself for a while, wondering about Laurel and Oliver and, yes, about Captain Cold. Ollie said that he’d “tagged” him, probably with a tracking arrow. Was her one-time rescuer bleeding out somewhere in a Star City alley? Had Oliver and Laurel caught him?

Sara had already come to terms with her instinctive belief that Cold hadn’t been responsible for this. It didn’t make any sense. Just because there had been ice at the scene didn’t mean anything: that had been an explosion that had rocked and derailed the car. And even a supervillain had to have a motive.

Of course, who did? Why would someone cause an accident like that just for kicks? Sara knew there had been villains who simply thrived on causing chaos, but wouldn’t someone be taking credit if that was the case?

Her restless and circling thoughts were finally interrupted when Laurel and Oliver arrived home several hours later, tired and annoyed. Apparently, Oliver’s tracking arrow had stopped sending out a signal not long after he’d fired it, and while they searched for a good long while, they’d had no luck in finding anything—or anyone. Not around the monorail accident site and not around a similar incident involving a trolley car near city center.

Cold was being blamed for that, too. Sara frowned.

“If he keeps this up, people are going to start clamoring for super registration again,” Oliver said, pacing the living room as Laurel and Sara watched him. “And that never goes well. Ugh!” He threw himself onto the couch with Laurel, sighing. “It was a minor miracle that no one was seriously hurt.”

“The mayor is talking about moving up his announcement, dad says,” Laurel offered. “I still don’t know what that is...but it’s supposed to be public security related. That could be a help to us.”

Oliver made a considering noise, but Sara’s frown just grew. She wasn’t fond of the mayor, who seemed...opportunistic in a way that made her skin crawl. But she knew better than to say that now.

Instead, she just pled exhaustion from the trials of the day and retired to her room. Still thinking.

* * *

Somehow, Sara wasn’t surprised at all when there was a noise at her window a little bit later. Honestly, she would have been more surprised if there wasn’t.

Captain Cold nearly fell through the opening, landing on his knees with a grunt. Sara watched him, knife in her hand just in case, but didn’t offer to attack or help--just waited to see what he’d do.

The hooded figure shook his head roughly, then looked up at her. His face was still obscured by the goggles, but she thought there were lines of pain around his mouth

“Are you OK?” he asked her in that low tone

“ _What_?” She winced at the tone of her own voice. “I’m fine. But...”

“There was ice on the tracks because I was trying to bind the train to the track with it.” He didn’t try to get up, just stayed there, on her floor, looking at her. “I didn’t do it. Sara. That or the other accident.”

“I know.” Cautiously, Sara tucked the knife up her sleeve and took a step closer. “Someone’s trying to frame you.”

His mouth fell open, just a little. “Why...”

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

After another long moment, Cold reached up and pulled his hood back...and then stripped off the goggles too. Sara blinked...but then realized most of his face was still obscured by that inner white hood. But not his eyes...which were a blue so bright that there was no way it was natural. She smiled a little. Clever.

“Those have got to be contacts,” she told him.

His mouth twitched. “Well,” he drawled in return. “You can see my eyes now, can’t you?” Then he shifted a little, letting out another grunt of pain and putting his hand to his left shoulder.

Sara was on her knees next to him before she realized what she was doing, reaching out to grab the edge of the parka. He flinched away, then froze. Sara did too, waiting to see what he’d do.

Then, slowly, he reached up and grabbed the zipper of his parka, pulling it down and then shrugging it off with another pained grunt. There was a large piece of cloth—a blanket, maybe?--wrapped around his shoulder, and now Sara could see the blood on it, and the hole in the blue parka as it fell to the ground.

Cold closed those blue, blue eyes and shuddered. All supers had healing factors, to some extent, but Sara knew what it looked like when one pressed their factor too far.

“The Green Arrow,” he mumbled. “Shot me.” He jerked his head toward the wound. “I cut the arrowhead out. I figured there was a tracker in there.”

Sara opened her mouth to tell him he was right, then stopped. He had no way of knowing that same Green Arrow was here, in this house, probably still furiously complaining about the supposed supervillain who was even now threatening to pass out on her floor. She leaned forward to better see the puncture.

“There’s debris in there, too,” Cold continued numbly. “It won’t really heal until that’s out.” He blinked at her, a bit glassy-eyed. “I...need help...”

She shouldn’t. She should turn him in.

Damn it. She couldn’t. Sara nodded, then rose and left the room for a moment, washing her hands thoroughly and collecting a few items she knew she’d need. The house was quiet: her dad still wasn’t home and might very well sleep in his office again tonight. Oliver and Laurel were presumably down in the ArrowCave—a name that didn’t seem nearly so amusing with an arrow-shot boy about her own age in her room.

When Sara first returned, she thought Cold had passed out, slumped against the beanbag chair in her room. But as she knelt on the carpet after closing the window, he blinked at her again and struggled to sit up. “Sorry...”

“Shh.” Sara bit her lip, then showed him what was in her hand: a bottle of high-proof alcohol that’d been in the family liquor cabinet probably longer than she’d been alive. Her dad had better stuff, and as supers, Oliver and Laurel both avoided alcohol. No one would be looking for it.

“Take a drink and then I’m going to clean that out,” she said, nodding to his shoulder. “And then... I’m going to wash it out with this. It won’t help much if we get the debris out and leave all the germs.” Oliver had found that out the hard way once.

But Cold shook his head vehemently. “Don’t need a drink,” he muttered. “Just do it.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she told him, trying to sound stern. “You’re going into shock. And you need to be quiet when I do this, and it’s going to hurt like heck. This might help.”

He shook his head again, but peered at her face, seeming to realize how serious she was. He reached for the bottle, but Sara held it up to him so he could take a healthy swig. He grimaced at the taste, then leaned against the chair and closed his eyes. Sara studied the wound, then took the scissors she’d retrieved and carefully cut the black jumpsuit he was wearing open a bit more around it, giving her a better view.

There were some pretty nice, lean muscles in those arms, she couldn’t help but notice, but there were other things revealed too. Scars, both small (cigarette burns?) and larger, jagged and rough-looking. Sara’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t comment. Instead she spread out an old towel, picked up the tweezers and set to work.

It must have been incredibly painful, but Cold remained more or less still for the process, his harsh breathing the only sign of how he must be feeling. Sara picked out threads and shards of glass, slivers of wood and bits of dirt, wondering where he’d gone to ground while people were searching for him, cringing internally at the thought. She thought she could see bone in there, but if she could just get it cleaned it, it would start to knit. She’d done this for both Laurel and Oliver before, though this wound was rather worse than those smaller punctures and scrapes.

Finally, she laid the tweezers down on the towel, picked up another clean one, and unscrewed the bottle again...and dumped a healthy amount of the alcohol into the wound.

Cold hissed, but made no further noise, an effort that had to be herculean. Sara cringed in sympathy, then wrapped a clean bandage around the shoulder, securing it as best she could. She expected him to pull his parka back on, but he just stayed there a moment longer, slumped against the chair, before turning his head and blinking at her again.

“Thanks,” he said, the single word redolent of exhaustion and pain. “I...thanks. I’ll get outta your hair now...”

Sara had a sudden vision of him trying to stand and falling out her window. She put out a hand to keep him in place, then rose to grab a blanket from her bed, leaning back down to drape it around him. He was still more or less reclined against the beanbag chair, and Sara had fallen asleep studying like that before—it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Stay here,” she told him. “Just a bit. You’re still shocky, and if you press your healing factor much more without rest, your system will crash. That’s not going to help anyone.”

Cold frowned at her, an expression that wasn't nearly as forbidding as he meant it to be, given that he looked about as weak as a newborn kitten. But then he let his head thump back down onto the chair, closing his eyes. Sara, victorious, made sure her door was locked, then turned out the light and sat down on her bed, watching him.

Her dad would freak if he had any idea, she thought with amusement. Not only was there a boy in her room, it was the notorious supervillain Captain Cold. Who didn’t look notorious at all at the moment.

“Tell me about what you wanted help with, with City Hall,” she said suddenly. “C’mon. It’s the least you can do.”

A faint noise of amusement came from the direction of the beanbag chair.

“Sure, ask me that when I’ve had a healthy slug of booze and I’m passing out,” was the mumbled response. Then a pause.

“Malcolm Merlyn,” he said quietly.

“The mayor?” Sara frowned. Was it coincidence, that the man had come up twice tonight? She had an uneasy feeling not.

“He’s...he’s planning something. And it’s nothing good.” Cold hesitated. “I...I’ve had run-ins with him before.”

“Run-ins? Like how?”

But the next response was a quiet snore, and Sara let it go. For now.

* * *

When she woke a few hours later, in the very early morning, he was gone. The window was closed, but the blanket had been folded neatly and placed over the medical supplies she’d used the night before, concealing them. And there was a note on the windowsill.

“Thanks,” it said, in that metallic blue ink, a tiny drawing of a snowflake next to it. “You’re a lifesaver.”


	4. Pieces of a Puzzle

Sara and Felicity found themselves minor celebrities the next day, thanks to their presence on the monorail car. Felicity was probably more rattled by the revelation about two of her heroes than by the narrow escape, but she was quite amenable to telling everyone about the experience regardless. Sara, amused, let her handle it. She had other things on her mind.

She looked for Len all morning with no luck, finally accepting that he was out that day—an oddity, given that he was generally the most punctual and responsible of students. (“I have to be,” he’d told her cynically once. “Everyone’s waiting for me to screw up and prove myself ... _his_... son.”) Disappointed—and more than a little thoughtful—she'd tried looking up his address with no luck, then sat and stared out the windows so long in the rest of her classes that her teachers presumed she’d been more rattled by the accident than she’d seemed.

After school, she blew off the Creators Club and made her way to the suite of offices being used by the city higher-ups who’d once been located in City Hall. The secretary, who’d known her since childhood, waved her in with a smile, but once Sara was out of sight, she purposefully wandered past her father’s temporary office and toward the corner office, which Malcolm Merlyn would definitely have taken for himself.

Merlyn was a handsome, apparently affable man, although Sara knew well enough that much of that affability was a front. He’d been Moira Queen’s deputy mayor until she’d resigned after the destruction of the first City Hall, taking over and pushing for a platform of increased law and order with the help of Quentin Lance. Sara’s father hadn’t been all that fond of the other man up until then, but they seemed thick as thieves now, bonded over the loss of wife and son.

Sara still didn’t like Merlyn. At all.

She rapped on the door and waited, then tried the doorknob with little hope. When it turned, though, she pushed the door open slowly, an excuse on her lips about looking for her father. But no one was inside and, surprised at her luck, she stepped in carefully, looking around.

Malcolm Merlyn liked the finer things in life, and even though this space was a temporary situation, that was clear in the décor and furnishings. Sara, wondering idly how much taxpayer money had been spent on the leather chairs and immense mahogany desk, drifted farther in, scanning the room, wishing she had a better idea what she was looking for.

Only one errant sheet of paper marred that immaculate desk, and Sara another step closer to see. It wasn’t a sheet, actually, she realized. It was an envelope, with what seemed to be a word scrawled on it. Sara squinted. Tempest?

“Ms. Lance.”

Sara started, then worked hard to keep any sign of guilt from her face as she turned to face Malcolm Merlyn. “Mr. Mayor,” she exclaimed with a smile. “I’m sorry. I was looking for my dad and I thought he had a meeting with you today.”

“Ah.” Merlyn’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s true. However, that meeting has been done a while now.” Turning, he extended an arm to usher Sara out of the office, and she went with alacrity, careful to show no sign of regret.

“Still,” the mayor said as they walked down the hallway toward Sara’s father’s office, “it’s a pleasure to see you again. It’s been a while.” He paused outside the door. “You’re a senior now? At Kanigher-Broome?”

“Yes,” Sara acknowledged, uneasy with the question for some reason. Why shouldn’t the mayor know that? It would be easy enough to find out anyway. “I am.”

“Hmm.” Another one of those not-really-a-smiles. “I probably still know some of your classmates, from when...Tommy...” A shadow passed his eyes, then was gone. “Although he was a few years older. Let’s see...Felicity Smoak? Raymond Palmer? Nathaniel Heywood?” He nodded as Sara murmured agreement. “Anyone else?”

“Yes? It’s a big class. Or no?” Sara blinked up at him innocently. At least, she tried to look innocent. She wasn’t really sure how well she pulled it off. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“Mal...oh, Sara!” Quentin Lance, heading back to his office from parts unknown, looked a combination of pleased and discomfited to see Sara there, and she prepared herself for a lecture about being out without some sort of protection or escort. It would be worth it to get herself out from under Malcolm Merlyn’s reptilian gaze for now. She politely bade the mayor farewell as her dad fetched his keys, ready to drive her home, and turned away despite her better judgment.

Her shoulder blades itched all the way home.

* * *

Sara left a note attached to her window that night: “What is Tempest? Saw note in MM office.”

The response, in metallic blue ink the next morning, was: “Working on that. Thanks for looking.” It made Sara smile, to realize he’d checked in on her, but frown, to realize he’d stopped by and not bothered to actually speak to her. Good enough to do his dirty work, not enough to let in on the problem a little more, she thought with irritation.

“So I’m bad ass, but not enough to help you more with this?” was the response she’d left. There’d been no response to that.

Supers. Ugh.

There continued to be an array of crises around Star City, more than the usual crimes the city was sadly known for—suspicious accidents, vandalism, at least one arson. Oliver and Laurel were kept hopping, and Sara’s father was even more distracted than usual. Everyone assumed Captain Cold was causing the incidents. Everyone, it seemed, but Sara.

“But _why_?” she asked while sitting in Creator Clubs one afternoon with Felicity, Ray, Barry, Iris, and…slightly on their periphery, a very quiet Len. “Why would he do all this and not take credit for it? And most of it has nothing to do with ice. Why not use his powers if he’s really committed to causing chaos?”

“Well, no one knows his full power set,” Iris pointed out. “Most supers have a few, in addition to the healing factor and other stuff.” She nibbled the end of her pencil, looking thoughtful. Iris was interning at the _Star City Citizen_ newspaper. It’d been far more even-handed than the city’s tabloid paper and all of the bloggers, making no assumptions about the cause of all the incidents, but that didn’t mean the opinion pages weren’t full of letters calling for Captain Cold’s head.

“You’re right,” Iris said finally, looking at Sara. “It’s weird. But if it’s not him…”

“That’s what people are afraid of.” They all looked at Ray, who shrugged. “If it’s not him, they don’t know who it is. And people would rather know. Or think they do.” He frowned at his physics book, open in front of him. “Or they have to realize that everyday crime in Star is really that bad. Or start wondering about another new supervillain…or a hero going bad. Like Green Arrow. Or the Flash.”

Felicity and Barry spoke up at once, defending the heroes, and the conversation went way off track. Sara shook her head (she wasn’t going to defend Ollie, he didn’t need it) and looked over at Len, who’d simply been listening while working on something on his battered laptop.

“What do you think?” she asked him, recklessly, curious to see what he’d say—and not just because of the tiny germ of a suspicion she’d entertained once or twice. They’d talked about a lot, but never this. “About Captain Cold?”

Len propped his chin on his fist and regarded her with those remarkable pale blue eyes. Then he shrugged and glanced back down at his laptop.

“I think he’s an idiot,” he said quietly.

“What? Why?” Sara frowned at him, annoyed both at her impulse to defend the infuriating super and at Leonard’s surprising response. Len was fond of logic, and Sara thought her take on the issue was completely logical. (Well. Mostly.) She also figured he’d be there to defend someone else who might be…unfairly painted with the wrong brush, so to speak.

Len shrugged again. “If he’s innocent,” he said, speaking to his computer and not to her, which was odd, “why doesn’t he say something? Why all this cloak-and-dagger garbage?” He looked up at her, eyes intent. “He’s trouble.”

And to that, Sara wasn’t sure what to say.

* * *

But when trouble came, it came from a direction that surprised her—and targeted someone she didn’t expect.

“They actually let that…that man’s spawn into your school?” Quentin Lance’s voice was sharp and angry when he stalked into the kitchen one morning about a week later, and while Sara could tell it wasn’t really directed at her, she still paused in the act of cutting up a banana for her cereal to stare at him. What...

Oh.

How had he heard about Len’s return to Star City? Len kept to himself, refusing to do anything that might put his name out there. Sara knew he’d even asked the school guidance counselors to keep his name off the honor roll listings sent to the local newspapers.

“Dad!” she said, holding up her hands and sending a helpless glance toward Laurel, who was sitting at the kitchen table and eating her own breakfast. Her sister was staring at their father in surprise. “He’s fine. It’s fine. Really! He’s a good guy, and he _hates_...”

But her father wasn’t even listening to her, instead shaking his head and staring off into space. Seeing, perhaps, the memory of his wife, or the hateful face of Lewis Snart as he’d refused to speak at his own trial.

“It’s OK, honey,” Quentin said, absently, taking out his phone. “I’m going to get that... delinquent...transferred somewhere else. Somewhere away from you.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s even back in Star City. He made some…well, some accusations back…after...” His mouth worked briefly, like he’d tasted something bad. “It’s one of the reasons Malcolm made sure anyone who’d take them in wasn’t in Star,” he continued quietly. “After everything he went through…with Tommy…to hear that...garbage...”

“Dad!”

As much as Sara appreciated Laurel cutting in to back her up, she really would have preferred her sister wait a few more moments. What garbage? Was he referring to Leonard? Something he’d said? He’d only been 15.

Their father looked up in surprise, frowning at the looks on his daughters’ faces. Laurel looked over at Sara, studying her expression, then nodded and looked back.

“Dad,” she said quietly. “ _Listen_ to Sara. She’s OK with it. And so am I. It’s not this kid’s fault.” She took a deep breath. “We’re all just trying to...to put our lives back together. You know?”

Quentin stared at her, then looked back at Sara. She licked her lips and nodded in agreement, unwilling to admit yet just how close she and Leonard had grown, but knowing that she didn’t want his life to be upended again just for the “crime” of being someone’s son.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” her father said quietly. “But...all right.” He turned his phone off and tucked it away again. Sara breathed a sigh of relief. But he wasn’t done quite yet, pointing at his younger daughter, his eyes full of grief and a degree of anger that Sara didn’t understand.

“You stay away from him, though,” he commanded. “You can’t trust that family. Liars and crooks.” He shook his head, then repeated it. “Liars and crooks...”

That didn’t sound like her father, and Sara frowned at him, then at Laurel as he turned away. Her sister gave her a helpless shrug, but she was frowning too.

Well. Her father didn’t seem to realize that Sara had made no promises. And Sara wasn’t going to point that out.

* * *

Sara didn’t have the heart to tell Leonard about her father’s near-attempt to get him tossed out of school, although she knew she probably should, just to warn him. She enjoyed his company, a lot, and she was pretty sure they were working their way toward something more.

A few days later, Len confirmed that.

It was the sort of sunny autumn Monday when no one wanted to be in school, and they were no exception. Most of seniors flexed their upperclassmen’s privileges at every opportunity, leaving the building to grab lunch or just sit outside talking during breaks. Len had developed a fondness for perching on the top of one of the stone platforms that flanked the stairs leading up to the school and watching everything around him, and Sara often joined him, enjoying the warmth of the sun-warmed stone and, she’d admit, his closeness.

That particular day, he was leaning backward, propped on his hands, which had the effect of placing one of his arms across Sara’s back, almost as if he had an arm around her. She paused, then leaned into it, and he didn’t move, the physical affection accepted. It was a delicate dance—but it was becoming theirs.

“So,” he said, staring out across the lawn, and reached up with his other hand to rub absently at his shoulder. Even during the warm late fall weather, he always wore long sleeves, and Sara was pretty sure she knew why. But she wasn’t going to bring it up if he didn’t. “Spirit Week, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever taken part in one of those.”

Sara snorted. Yeah, she could really see him taking part in today’s Crazy Hair Monday, or ‘80s Day, any one of the other days during the run-up to the homecoming football game. She studied him a moment, getting a smirk as if he’d read her mind, then shook her head.

“You going to the homecoming game?” he asked after another moment.

“Nah. Football isn’t my thing.”

“Same. Or the dance?”

Hmm. Sara gave him a considering glance. “I wasn’t planning on it,” she said slowly. “Why?”

Len was looking anywhere but her. “Just wondered if you’d like to do something else. Hm. Grab dinner? Maybe?”

Sara tilted her head. Well, well.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.” She cast him a sideways glance, smiling a little, then elbowed him. “Hey. Just to be clear. You’re talking about a date?”

That got another smirk. “Well. Yeah.” He turned his head toward her a little more, just as Sara leaned toward him a little more, too, and their noses brushed...

“Awww!”

Len sighed, then turned his head and regarded Felicity with weary amusement. Sara’s friend was standing next to them on the stairs, giving them puppy eyes.

“Really?” he asked. Len and Felicity were developing an odd, resigned affection for each other, one based on their mutual fondness for Sara. But that didn’t mean they didn’t give each other shit all the time.

“What?” Felicity beamed up at him, then bumped Sara’s hip with her shoulder. Sara rolled her eyes, then bumped her back. Such was life.

* * *

No matter how distracting the notion of going on an actual date with Leonard Snart was, it wasn’t enough to distract Sara from the knowledge that there was more going on with her handsome classmate than met the eye. And she couldn’t get away from the sense of paranoia the whole situation instilled in her, enough that she decided not to search for more information at home or at school.

The library, however, she decided to dare. She could wipe her search history, and she knew the librarians did it again after closing.

The most any of the newspaper reports of the time had mentioned was that Lewis Snart had two children, a son in high school and an elementary-aged daughter. There was no mention anywhere that Sara could find of any accusations by one of those children. She frowned, running her fingers along the edge of the keyboard and glancing around to make sure no one was looking over her shoulder.

So, they must have been made in private. And based on what her father had said, they’d involved the mayor. Well…the current mayor. If Len had made a serious accusation about Malcolm Merlyn to someone after the City Hall quake, it probably would have been Moira Queen.

And the police commissioner.

* * *

“Ollie? Can I come down there?”

“Sure,” came the call up the stairs from the basement. “Just…ah, heck. Watch your step, OK?”

Sara shook her head as she stepped over the quiver, arrows spilling out of it, that had been dumped onto one of the stairs, as if it’d just gotten too heavy for its owner. Maybe it had, for all she knew. Oliver and Laurel had been really weary, lately, with everything that was going on.

Oliver’s “ArrowCave” wasn’t really too disreputable, though. Laurel spent enough time down here that it wouldn’t be. And Ollie had come a long way from the irresponsible playboy in the making that he’d been once. But all the fancy furniture Sara remembered seeing in the Queen mansion once was replaced here by comfortable, overstuffed furniture, the expensive paintings replaced by movie posters and photographs of the city. Sara looked around, smiling a little. No wonder Oliver didn’t mind his allowance from his mom. Sara was pretty sure he spent most of it on junk food and weaponry anyway.

The man in question was walking out of his bedroom, a basket of laundry in hand. Yeah, Oliver had come a long way. His blond hair was mussed, he was wearing a pair of ripped sweatpants and a Star City Rockets T-shirt, and he grinned when he saw her.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted her, from the lofty height of two years of advanced age. “To what do I owe the visit? Your sister’s at the college library doing some studying.”

Laurel was doing preliminary law studies online, but sometimes she liked to be out on campus. And Sara knew perfectly well where her sister was. She’d planned it that way.

She took a deep breath, then took a seat on the sofa. “I wanted to ask you a question. About…after the quake.”

Ollie tilted his head, then sat down, watching her. “Go on.”

This had been a lot easier when Sara had rehearsed it upstairs in her room. “Your mom,” she said carefully. “Did she ever say if…if there was any doubt? What caused it? Or…who?” The time was a bit of a blur for Sara, for obvious reasons, but all the news stories she’d found in hindsight hadn’t put blame on anyone but the only person who’d been arrested for it.

Oliver looked started, but not angry at her question. He hesitated, then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Sara,” he said gently. “It _was_ Lewis Snart. They caught him on video, carrying the device into the tunnels under City Hall, setting it up and then fleeing. Red handed.”

Sara shook her head. “I _know_ that,” she said. “But…” She took a deep breath. “Was he working alone? Was there ever any question? And, I mean, where did he get it?”

She partly expected Oliver to just shoot the questions down, but instead he looked thoughtful.

“Mom said once that there was _something_ ,” he said slowly. “But…why wouldn’t Snart have said something? Why wouldn’t he implicate any co-conspirators?” He shook his head. “He didn’t say anything. At his trial. Refused to even speak.”

“I remember.” Sara looked down at her hands, then back up. “But did someone else? Say something?”

Oliver frowned. “Y’know,” he said slowly, leaning back against his chair. “I think maybe someone did? I don’t know who.” He shook his head again. “But I know my mom was really upset by it.” He glanced at Sara. “Turned out it was completely without value. She was really relieved. That’s when she decided to leave the city, get away from the memories.”

Sara bit her lip in frustration. But she didn’t think there was any good way to continue the line of questioning, and she was pretty Oliver had told her all he knew, anyway.

“Don’t say anything to my dad,” she said suddenly. “About me asking. Please? He’s got enough on his mind. And he still hates talking about it.”

Oliver nodded, getting to his face and picking up his laundry basket.

“I promise,” he said solemnly, holding up one hand and balancing the basket on his hip. “Scout’s honor.”

Sara laughed despite herself. “Oliver Queen, you were _never_ a Boy Scout.”

“Still.”

* * *

The day of the homecoming game and dance came without incident. Sara threaded her way through the crowds of chattering students at school, smiling to herself at all the green and black for School Spirit Day. Her one concession to the week and the day had been to wear a green sweater and small black hoop earrings, but others went all out—face paint even at school, entire ensembles, and over-the-top headgear.

Leonard was on his usual perch outside, looking around at the gleeful ridiculousness surrounded him with an air of amusement. His eyes lit as he saw her, and Sara grinned, hopping up next to him. She leaned against his shoulder, and he let her, and it was as good as a kiss, nearly, for them.

“So,” she asked as they watched the excited throng, “what are the plans for tonight?” She glanced at Len as he hummed thoughtfully. “C’mon, I let you keep it a secret until now, but I need to have some idea.”

Blue eyes sparkled at her. A corner of his mouth twitched up, and she wondered what he was thinking.

“Well,” he said, “I thought I’d pick you up at home, if that’s OK? Um.” He glanced away, and the mischief in his eyes faded a little. “You probably don’t want your dad to meet me…yet…but I sort of feel like I should meet some member of your family. Your sister, maybe?”

Her dad would almost certainly be at the game as part of the police detail and as a leading public servant. Laurel might be home…or she might be out, being Black Canary. Sara nibbled at her lip, appreciating his gesture even as she pondered the best way to handle this.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “About Laurel. I think maybe she’d sort of like to meet you. Although she doesn’t know that…um. That we’re…”

Dating? Could she say that before they’d actually gone on a date? What were they, anyway? Sara sighed, hating the uncertainty that came with these sorts of things, even without the whole “my father hates you” mess.

Leonard nodded. He had an odd expression too, almost conflicted, presumably for the same reason.

“Well,” he said, seeming to choose his words carefully, “let’s say 6:30, if that’s OK. I have…something to check on…first.” He paused. “So. If your sister can be there…?”

“I’ll try.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little. “But…what should I wear?”

Oh, that was definitely mischief. Len eyed her a moment, that smirk of his hovering around his lips.

“Something you can move in,” he said. “Sneakers, or shoes you can…run in.”

Hmmm. The tiny germ of suspicion unfolded a tiny bit more.  “Oh, you don’t want me in that sexy dress I bought, then?” Sara asked lightly, pretty sure there was a good deal of mischief in her own eyes.

He coughed. “Well, now, I didn’t say _that_. But maybe another time?”

“Deal.”

* * *

Sara’s father accepted her demurral about being uninterested in the homecoming game without comment. Sara watched him leave with regret. She really didn’t like hiding something from him but given that he was so uninterested in her life anyway…well, that was how it had to be. Oliver had departed too, planning to perch somewhere he could watch the game and be present in case of trouble,

Laurel had departed for the library, planning to get some studying in, and Sara couldn’t think of a good way to stop her without confessing that she was hiding something from their dad. She waved goodbye, sighed, then went to get ready.

She dressed in good jeans, the ones with a hidden side gusset for greater movement and high kicks, and a form-fitting dark gray top, one that had come inexplicably with a hood. Then she did her makeup with a little more care than usual. Well, just because this wasn’t a conventional date didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do something special.

She was contemplating what to do with her hair, though, when there was a scratch at her window. And as she whirled, it opened, and Captain Cold leaned through.

He pushed back his outer hood and goggles, taking a deep breath and staring at her with those overly blue eyes.

Then, “I need your help,” he said.

Sara stared at him then looked at her phone. Ten minutes to 6:30.

“I have _plans_ ,” she said, hoping this wasn’t what she thought it was. “I haven’t seen…you…since you passed out in my room, and now _this_? No.”

Cold shook his head roughly and let out a noise that was part a sigh, part a curse.

“Damn it, I didn’t want…” he muttered, then buried his head in his gloved hands. But after only a moment, he looked back up, seeing her still standing there, watching him, and apparently noticed the hesitation in her demeanor.

“Something is going down, tonight, now, and the only other person who could back me up isn’t in the city today,” he said, voice catching, slipping out of the habitual low drawl. “You’re right that I said you were bad ass, that…that first night we met. And I need your help. Please?”

Sara closed her eyes, and Cold continued, still in that intense tone. “ I promise…I promise I’ll explain, as much as I can, but I need to go _now_ and I need someone to watch my back.”

She opened her eyes again and studied him, the tense body language, the conflict in his voice. Thought about pale blue eyes and leaning against each other in the fall sunshine, about mystery dates and scarred shoulders and the scent of mint. And tempests.

“OK,” she said finally, hearing him actually sigh in relief. “Just a moment.”

Then she turned away, pulling out her phone and starting a text.

And then she stopped and stared at it a moment. Thinking. Remembering. Putting things together.

And then she put it away, in her pocket, zipping it up securely.

Leap of faith.

Sara quickly braided her hair and coiled it up against her head, pinning it securely. She tucked a knife (another knife) up her sleeve, and grabbed her batons from her weapons rack. And then she turned back to the tall, parka-clad figure who was watching her with such a conflicted expression on what was visible of his face.

“OK,” she told him firmly. “Let’s go.”

 


	5. A Date to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's going to be seven chapters now. Bad Jael. ;) The last one was just going to be really long, but I hit a good point to stop and it just felt right. Ch. 6 tomorrow and, I hope, Ch. 7 on Friday.

Cold went back out the window, but Sara rolled her eyes, closed the window behind him and headed down to the front door, which she also locked behind her. He was waiting around behind the house, under the tree he kept climbing to get to her, and looked unbelievably relieved when she came into view.

“Um. Here.” He held out something that shone white in the moonlight, and Sara, curious, reached out to take it, turning it over in her hands. It was a white domino mask, not so unlike Laurel’s black one, made of supple leather that was soft beneath her fingertips. She looked up at him, seeing the oddly wistful look on his face again, then nodded, slipping it on and adjusting the elastic that secured it to her head and then pulling her hood up to cover that and her hair.

Cold hesitated in the process of pulling his goggles back down over his eyes and took a step closer, watching her.

“I wish…” he started, then shook his head, turning away and tugging the eyewear down roughly. Sara regarded him thoughtfully, then followed as he started walking into the woods behind the house.

“Might help if you told me where we’re going,” she said after a moment.

“The docks,” he told her. “But first…” He motioned to the side, turning in that direction. “I parked out here so it wouldn’t be visible from the house. Just in case.”

“Parked? What, you have a Coldmobile or something?” Then they moved around a tree, and Sara saw the fence that marked the property line--and, just beyond it, a motorcycle.

Cold clambered over the fence, turning to extend a hand, but Sara just put a hand on a post and vaulted it herself, noting his quick smile. She studied the bike, which looked well-worn but also well-cared-for, and took note of the two helmets hanging from the side with a sort of saddlebag.

“Aw,” she said, picking one up, “you brought me a helmet?”

Cold cleared his throat. “Well. Safety first.” He smirked as she eyed him. “You OK riding pillion?”

“Sure.” Sara put the helmet on, noting that it seemed new, but fit perfectly. Hm. “You really do have a license for this thing?”

Belatedly, she thought that it was probably kind of silly to be OK with running into the night with the so-called supervillain but question whether he had a motorcycle license. But Cold chuckled as he took off his parka and stuffed it in the bag, then put his own helmet on, buckling it before swinging his leg over the bike.

“I do,” he said, fussing with something near the handlebars. “And it’s even clean and up to date.” He started the bike, which purred quietly to life. “But it’s not like I really want to produce my license and registration if pulled over--so we’ll just have to drive safe.”

Sara couldn’t argue with that. She perched behind him, paused, then settled her hands on his waist and tucked her chin against his shoulder. Cold turned his head just a little, the dark stubble on his jaw brushing her cheek, and she heard him sigh, smelled the mint on his breath…

And then they were off, roaring into the evening.

* * *

“The docks” could mean any of a few places, all on the Starling River, ranging from the yacht playgrounds of the upper crust to the dramatic opposite: rundown remnants of the time the river had been used for more transportation of goods to and through the city, before the days of airplanes and semis.

Sara knew the city well enough to guess fairly quickly that they were headed for a site somewhat in the middle of the two extremes, the so-called Adams docks at the base of the street of the same name. Thanks to a nearby open-air market, these docks were somewhat still used for legitimate business purposes, bringing goods into the city for sale and further transport. But not this time of night, and not, generally, with any such degree of cloak-and-dagger secrecy.

Her guess was correct, and Cold turned off the bike’s lights a few short blocks away, pulling over into an alleyway between two storefronts, both closed for the night. As he climbed off the motorcycle, Sara followed suit, removing her helmet when he did and watching him thoughtfully.

He gave her the shadow of a smile and another sigh, taking both helmets and stowing them before pulling out his parka and shrugging it back on, zipping it up before moving closer.

“I’d learned there was something to be brought into the city on the river some night this month,” he said quietly. “And wouldn’t you know, when I made the rounds earlier tonight, there was a boat running dark, headed this way.”

“The Adams docks?” Sara made a thoughtful noise as he nodded. For all his icy powers and his name, he was awfully warm, in a good way, while standing so close to her. “What is it? This thing?”

“Not positive.” Cold took a deep breath and let it out. “A weapon, at a very educated guess. Or more than one.” Sara digested that while he glanced out the mouth of the alley and then beckoned her to follow, walking quickly across the street and into another alley there. He started up a ladder at the back of it without even checking to see if she was OK, which had the perverse effect of making Sara smile as she followed. He trusted that she could do this.

And he trusted her to have his back.

Once on top of the building there, Cold moved toward the front, which overlooked the cross street and then the docks themselves. There was enough of a rim that they could kneel behind it and observe without being seen, and they did just that, peering out at the dark street and the darker water beyond.

Just as he’d said, there was a boat coming in dark—and just as he’d said, he hadn’t had much time to spare. Even as Sara watched, shapes moved about in the small receiving building off the dock, coming out and throwing ropes toward the craft, ropes that were caught by a figure onboard.

She glanced toward Cold, who was watching intently.

“I can distract them. I’m around a lot of water here, and ice is sort of my thing,” he told her, a hint of humor in his tone. “As you know. And...well, my powers are actually a good bit stronger than I’ve shown before around you.”

He motioned to the building while she considered that. “You see if you can get a good look at what's in those boxes...or maybe even make off with it.”

 As soon as the boat was tied up, figures had boarded, pausing and milling about a moment before picking up boxes that had been stacked on board and starting to carry them off, into the building, before emerging to get more.

“You’d trust me to do that?” Her father...or even Laurel and Oliver...wouldn’t trust her to so much as play dispatcher. Or, she thought, to be fair, perhaps it was less trust and more that they felt the need to try to protect her.

“Yep. And if you can yell if you see something—or someone—coming that I don’t.” He turned toward her and smirked, light from the sole streetlamp reflecting off too-blue eyes, then rose and hurried toward the side of the building. Sara shook her head, then followed.

They moved quietly down the ladder there, pausing a moment behind the dumpster in yet another alley, then Cold took a deep breath, nodded to her, and darted across the street, ducking into the shadows. Sara frowned, tracking him. He should have taken off that blue parka, she thought. While it was a darker blue, the pale ruff stood out, and the rather questionable style choice, even for a super, made it completely clear who it was even before he used his powers.

But as he stood up out on the dock and lifted a hand to point it at the boat and the workers, she understood why. He wanted them to know him for who, and what, he was. Silly fashion choices and all.

Captain _Cold_.

Sara skidded into place outside the door just in time for a decent view. As Cold pointed, then made a fist and lifted it in the air, the water around the boat followed his gesture. Except that it wasn’t water anymore, or not liquid water anyway. Jagged spikes of ice crashed up around the craft, rocking it to the side, and the men on board shouted and hung on.

Sara could feel the chill rolling through the air, raising goosebumps on her arms even through her sleeves. The people working in the building, realizing that something was going on, went running out toward the dock, and Sara took a deep breath. Time to move.

She slipped in the front door, drawing one of her knives and kneeling next to one of the bigger boxes. The dratted thing was sealed tight, and Sara bit her lip as she sawed at it, flinching as she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot outside. But the shouts and the sounds of crashing ice and moving water didn’t even pause, so she had to believe Cold was managing OK.

The seals on the box gave way, and Sara hurriedly peeled it open, parting the container to get a good look at the contents.

And then she gasped.

“It can’t...” she whispered, staring. “How?”

Fortunately (or unfortunately, she wasn’t sure) a few more gunshots from outside jolted her from her shock. Sara quickly opened a few more boxes, checking their contents, pulling out her phone to snap a few pictures. The bigger boxes all contained the same thing, while the smaller ones held small silver wristbands, packed dozens to a box. Sara turned one over in her hands, then tucked a few away in her pockets before taking a look at the room as a whole.

She had to destroy these, at least the bigger boxes. There was no good purpose for their contents, none at all. She knew that as well as anyone. But how...

Sara took a deep breath, then picked one of the boxes up. It was heavy, but she was stronger than she looked after years of martial art training, and she was pretty motivated. Then she kicked open the door to the docks and moved outside.

Just in time to hear the approaching _whirrrr_ of a helicopter.

Cold was still keeping the workers busy, the boat locked in ice and a frozen shield protecting him from gunfire. Sara moved toward him, making sure he saw her, then tilted the box just once so that he could see what was inside, jerking her head back toward the building to indicate there were more.

He froze.

At another time, it might have been funny, the start of a bad pun, but Sara had rarely felt less humorous in her life. She saw Cold register what she held, saw him recognize it, saw his mouth form a thin, determined line. And then everything happened at once.

A spotlight from the helicopter hit them and a voice magnified by a bullhorn called out “Captain Cold! You are under...”

Cold jerked his head at Sara, who took another deep breath and pelted toward him despite her armload, sliding on the ice on the pavement to behind him, ducking her head instinctively.

He bought up his hands, which had been stretched out before him, and the ice surrounding the boat contracted, holding it in a frozen grip. People tumbled everywhere, onto the sheets of ice that now coated the river and back from where those ice spires rose.

And then he “threw” the boat at the building.

The voice from the helicopter rose, but Cold had already dove for Sara, bringing his arm up with another wave of ice to shield them as shrapnel flew everywhere. Then they were running again, back the way they’d originally come, counting on the chaos to cover them.

Cold took the box from Sara as they rounded the corner, headed for the alley where he’d left his bike. She spared a moment to wish she’d just tossed the damned thing in the water—it weighed too much to take with them, it would just slow them down—but he moved over to a dumpster next to the closed Chinese restaurant across the street and pitched the box in with a grunt, then rejoined her on the headlong flight.

Sara jumped onto the bike, perching her helmet back on her head even as Cold stuffed his goggles and parka into the bag again and vaulted into place in front of her, starting the machine and peeling out of the alley with a squeal of tires. Sara dared a glance behind them, but saw no pursuit from the scene of chaos at the dock—and, oddly or not, no lit-up police or emergency vehicles. She frowned, but turned to face forward, tucking her chin against Cold’s shoulder and wrapping her arms around him a little more securely, enjoying both the hint of chill that still hung over him and the solid warmth underneath.

They tore on through the night, taking twists and turns Sara was pretty sure were meant to throw off any pursuit, just in case. But none came, and she actually found herself laughing out loud, realizing that they’d actually gotten away with that mad bit of rampant destruction. The connotations of what she’d found in that dockside building were disturbing as hell, but...

But the adrenaline was pulsing through her veins, and her supervillain was laughing, too, his shoulders shaking under her hands, and the night was clear and beautiful.

She wondered where they were going. But she’d thrown her lot in now, and she was at peace with that, for better or for worse.

Eventually, Cold pulled the bike into yet another alley, concealing it behind a stack of boxes, then gave her an inquiring look as he reached up to pull down the metal skeleton of a fire escape ladder. Sara grinned at him, and he smirked back, and then they set off for the heights again, clambering up the side of a city brownstone in the way of squirrels or superheroes.

She realized why he’d picked this one as soon as she stepped out onto the roof. It had a view of the river, from far enough away that they weren’t likely to be spotted but close enough to see a little of what was going on. Which was...not so much, really.  The helicopter was gone, and there were no flashing lights, just—she peered toward the scene as Cold murmured something to himself—more dark shapes, apparently picking up the very small pieces.

That somewhat confirmed Sara’s supposition that someone high up in the city wanted this kept quiet. Which was an uncomfortable thought, and she didn’t want to inspect it right now, didn’t want to spoil the way she was feeling. So instead, she glanced at the figure next to her, the super who’d held the very substance of the Starling River in his hands and turned it into a weapon and a shield, the boy who’d trusted her to watch his back and help him figure out and deal with such a huge and potentially terrifying conspiracy, despite her lack of powers and everything else.

“We did it,” he breathed. “I mean...for now. We did it.”

Cold didn’t let out a whoop of victory or anything nearly so effusive. But he did turn to her, the first real grin she’d ever seen on his face lighting his eyes, which sparkled with triumph and mischief. Sara laughed, moving closer to him as he reached out an arm and looped it around her waist again, pulling her close as she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders.

And then they were kissing, there on that rooftop in Star City, under the stars and the full moon and the wind rustling the errant leaves around them.

Sara had kissed, and been kissed, before. But not like this.

Not with the adrenaline still making her dizzy, the strong arms around her both gentle and assured, the biting breath of cold still on his lips. Warmth blossomed within her, and she curled her hands around his neck, pulling him closer too, as close as humanly possible.

When they finally parted, slowly and reluctantly, Sara felt like it’d been seconds and it’d been hours, all at once. She took a steadying breath and licked her lips, then looked back up into those blue, blue eyes, eyes that were…conflicted, which was not really the expression she’d hoped to see in them right then.

Cold took a deep breath too, then closed his eyes. Sara studied his face, noting the premature lines in it, a few faded scars, too many for someone so young, and waited.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, then. “Sara. I...have to confess something…”

But Sara decided then that she couldn’t let him go on with anything that was causing that degree of pain in his voice. Not when she could stop it. She tightened her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake, startling him out of the confession, eyes focusing on hers again.

“It’s OK, Len,” she whispered, hearing his intake of breath as he registered her words. “I know it’s you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Captain Cold...Leonard Snart...shook his head roughly. He pulled back a moment and stared at her, but Sara kept grinning at him, sure in her statement even as she let him go.

Then he sighed, and reached up and pulled back his hood/mask. Dark, short hair with the spark of silver in it, those damned cheekbones and eyelashes, and those ridiculous blue eyes. Sara’s grin grew.

Leonard noticed the direction of her gaze, then tapped a finger against the bridge of his nose, between his eyes.

“You were right,” he told her with another sigh, reaching out to take her hand carefully. “They’re contacts.” He shook his head. “When did you figure it out?”

Sara considered it, tightening her grip on his fingers to try to show him that she was OK with this.

“I was pretty sure already,” she told him after a moment. “At first, when you showed up at the window tonight, I thought maybe you were testing me, seeing if I’d blow off the date with…well, you…to go run with Captain Cold.” She held up her other hand as he started to speak. “But you wouldn’t do that. I get it. You were telling the truth: you had to move fast, and you didn’t have time to spill your secrets and make sure we could get past them.”

Leonard actually chuckled at that.

“I had good intentions, you know,” he said quietly, looking down at her hand. “I thought I’d pick you up like a so-called normal person, take you for a bite to eat--then spill the secret and see if you wanted to…to go fight crime together.” His lips quirked a little more as Sara laughed. “Well, it seemed like the sort of thing you’d like to do.”

“You have no idea,” Sara told him fervently, thinking of Laurel and Oliver and all the times she’d tried to step more into their world. And passionately thankful neither of them had showed up at the docks.

“Well, I got that right, at least.” He gave her an almost shy glance. “ _How_ did you know?”

“Well. You smell—and taste--like mint. A certain kind of mint gum, to be exact.” She laughed as he sighed, spreading his hands in a “what can you do?” gesture. “But more seriously... probably the biggest was Malcolm Merlyn.”

Leonard’s face darkened, but Sara knew it wasn’t aimed at her. She reclaimed his hand, squeezing gently, before she started to speak again.

“You—Captain Cold-You—were investigating Merlyn, and told me that you'd had run-ins with him before,” she said, thinking back over the pattern she couldn’t help but notice, “and then my dad said something about allegations, about something you—Leonard Snart-You--said two years ago, connected with Merlyn. Who was apparently concerned enough about it to get you moved to Central City.”

Leonard looked down at their hands, then heaved a huge sigh, conflict and pain drifting over his features. Sara let him think a moment, trying to convey support and a lack of judgment.

“I told them, back then,” he said quietly. “Mayor Queen, and the commiss...your dad. I _told_ them that Merlyn was in on it with my da….with Lewis. No one believed me.”

Sara sucked in a breath. “In on _it_ ,” she whispered. “You mean the City Hall quake.”

“Yeah. I saw him meet with Lewis a few times. Merlyn...he’d pay for dirty work.” A darker shadow passed his eyes. “And my dad was all for that. I was watching, because I never trusted him.” A humorless laugh. “My dad _or_ Merlyn.”

Len glanced away, guilt etched across his features. “I saw...I saw him give Lewis the device, the Markov device. Two days before the quake. But I didn’t know what it was, then.”

Sara closed her eyes. She’d never liked Merlyn, but this... “His own _son_ died, at City Hall,” she breathed. “How _could_ he?”

Leonard shrugged, but they both moved closer, a little, sharing support in the face of nearly unimaginable evil.

“Pretty sure his own kid wasn’t supposed to be there,” he said bitterly. “I think it was supposed to take out Mayor Queen. And probably other city higher-ups. You know, to kind of rally the city together around the _new_ mayor, so he could pretty do whatever he wanted, especially in the name of law and order.”

Sara thought about what she knew of Merlyn. God help her, she could see it. “Tempest,” she said. “The name of his plan?”

“I think so. He’s got other people supporting him, too, although I don’t know who all of them are.” Len shook his head. “At least maybe my speaking up, two years back, delayed it a little, made it so he had to keep his nose clean for a bit. But I think he’s nearly there now. He’s going to do something.”

Sara bit her lip. “And there were Markov devices in those boxes, at the docks,” she added slowly. “Smaller ones than that one two years ago—I read all the articles, I saw the diagrams--but enough to cause a lot of damage...”

“Yeah. I didn’t know that’s what they were, but I knew he was expecting something.”

Sara looked up at the moon, thinking. The adrenaline of the mission and then the kiss was fading—although she definitely wanted to try the latter again—and Leonard’s revelation made the autumn breeze feel chillier than it probably really was. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, unable to tear her mind away from a horrible thought.

“My dad _couldn’t_ be part of it,” she whispered. “Right? That quake...it killed my mom.”

She wanted Leonard to immediately deny her dad’s involvement, to say that there was no way, that Commissioner Quentin Lance was clean, just with some rather...misplaced...loyalties. He didn’t. He wouldn’t, she knew, unless he was sure. He respected her too much for that.

“Was he expecting her that day?” Leonard asked quietly. “At City Hall?”

“No. She’d been planning to surprise him.” Sara closed her eyes, feeling tears leaking out. “No...”

She felt the air shift around her, and then Leonard had taken her shoulders in his hands, holding her securely and comforting her in the only way he really could.

“Sara, I think he’s a super of some sort,” he said intently. “Merlyn. He’s got some sort of…whammy. Everything I said was true, back then, but _no one_ believed me. They didn’t even really look into it.” He nodded as she looked up at him. “And Lewis—when he was arrested and Merlyn didn’t get him freed, there’s no way he would have stayed silent and headed off to death row like that. Maybe...maybe he’s used it on your dad.”

It was a small hope, but Sara would take it. She nodded, then wiped away the tears with irritation, pulling back to reach into her pocket.

“There were these, too. At the docks,” she told Leonard, holding one of the silver wristlets out to him. “We need to find out what they are.”

Leonard took it and turned it over in his hands, but to Sara’s slight disappointment, he didn’t seem to have any idea what it was. “And I’ll go back near the dock and get that device tomorrow,” he mused. “The one I threw in the dumpster. Pretty sure that no one really saw that we got one away, given all the chaos. Maybe...I don’t know.”

He sighed then, giving her a rueful look. “I’m not a scientist,” he said, looking down. “I have some basic know-how, but I don’t know what we can figure out more about these, or how to stop whatever Merlyn’s planning to do with them. That shipment is gone, but there will be more. He’s got all the money he wants to buy them.”

Sara hummed thoughtfully, looking at the wristband. They needed a tech expert, she thought. An engineer. Maybe a hacker. Someone good at digging things up...

Then she smiled.

“You might be surprised,” she said lightly, suddenly a bit more optimistic. “We have people with all sorts of odd skills.”

Leonard lifted his head to gaze at her, hope and skepticism warring in his eyes. “We?” he asked doubtfully.

Sara grinned at him. “Yes,” she said, reaching out to take his hand and feeling hope stirring within her again. “We.”


	6. Teamwork and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grr. I wanted Ch. 7 done before I posted, but I've apparently lost a good bit of it in a computer issue today. So, here's Ch. 6, and I'm off to work on restoring the last chapter!
> 
> Many thanks to LarielRomeniel.

It seemed, to Sara, as if there was no way she’d be home before the other members of her family. So much had happened since she set foot out the door.

Even as she rode home, perched on the back of Len’s motorcycle, she rehearsed explanations for her absence, eventually settling on the simplest: that she’d chosen to go to the football game after all, that Felicity had given her a ride (her friend would back her up) and, oh gee, they’d gotten so busy talking that she couldn’t remember the final score. Oops!

But the house was still dark after they parked the bike and made their way toward it, and Sara checked her phone again and found out it wasn’t nearly as late as she’d thought. No one had even texted her (except Felicity with three winking emojis and a heart symbol).

She turned to Len again, breathless, and got that half-smile in return, that intent, somehow soft, look in his eyes. He still had the bright contacts in (“I’ll take ‘em out when I get home—can't say I’ll miss ‘em”), but his hood was off and his parka was still tucked away. He looked somehow uncertain, there in the light of the front-porch lamp, as if he’d lost his Captain Cold attitude when he didn’t make his usual entry up at her bedroom window.

Sara stepped closer. “I’ll send some messages to people I trust. Can we...we can’t meet here. Do you...”

“Yeah, at this point, I figure you’d better see my place.” The half-smile widened a tad. “It’s not much, but...well. And my housemate’s not in town right now.”

Sara lifted her eyebrows at him, smirking, and he blinked...and actually blushed. It was rather adorable, really, she decided.

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” he told her, unable to hide a smirk of his own. “I meant, we can all meet there without bothering anyone else.” A shadow crossed his face. “I do hope he’s back before...anything else goes down, though. He’s my usual backup. The one I told you I didn’t have tonight.”

“Well...” Sara, daring, stepped even closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t say I’m sorry about that.” She let her fingers curl around his jumpsuit’s collar. “It was a very entertaining evening.”

Leonard, recovering his equilibrium, raised an eyebrow back at her. “Sara Lance,” he drawled, Captain Cold’s speech patterns now clear in his voice, “you have a very interesting idea of … entertaining.”

“You like that.”

“I do.”

And then they were kissing goodnight there at her front door, and only the knowledge that the others would be home at any time made them separate.

Eventually.

* * *

Sara’s father made no mention of any craziness at the Adams docks; in fact, he was even home before very late that night, joking with Oliver about the football game, asking Laurel about her studies and even gently teasing Sara in the way he used to, before...before.

Sara, who was pretty sure that had been a police helicopter in the sky earlier, had frowned, then pasted a smile on her face. If her father had known about the incident...that was a problem. If he hadn’t...that was a bigger problem.

But for now, there was nothing at all she could do about it.

* * *

Leonard’s home wasn’t an apartment, as Sara had halfway expected. It was an actual house, small and neat, located not all that far from the school in an area that was a little shabby but well cared for. Sara studied the street as Len unlocked the door, noting a number of older people—retirees?--tending gardens or sitting on porches. Many of them had waved as Leonard had pulled up on his bike, Sara perched behind him again, and he’d waved back.

“They weren’t sure what to think when we moved in,” he’d said with some amusement as they crossed the lawn to the door. “But we’ve made ourselves available to help with heavy lifting and some basic handiwork, and we ran off a few troublemakers who were trying to run some scams. We’ve been adopted now.”

It was a Monday, but a day off school (for what the district couldn’t decide was Columbus Day or Indigenous Peoples Day), and Sara’s family thought she was hanging out with Felicity again—which would actually be true, soon, sort of. Most of those she’d texted had been able to meet this afternoon, so she and Len had figured that sooner was better than later, if the sort of threat they feared really was hanging over the city.

He’d wanted to give Sara the grand tour first, though, he said. So here they were, stepping into the small blue house furnished with thrift store purchases and repaired curb reclamation projects, the air faintly holding the scents of candle smoke and mint.

He and his housemate had purchased it outright, Leonard told her as he showed her around, using in part a small inheritance from his grandfather, one that Lewis had had a tight grip on until he’d gone to prison and Leonard had started the process of disentangling himself from at least that part of his father’s legacy. Len, busy with school and, well, super-heroing, pulled in some money doing odd jobs here and there, as did his housemate, who also worked a few different security-related jobs.

“We keep ourselves fed,” he said with a shrug as Sara eyed the spartan kitchen. “Someday...well. For now, we make do.”

His own room upstairs was neat as a pin but crowded, packed with bookshelves, a well-worn desk, and a bed that didn’t look big enough to hold him (let alone anyone else, a thought that she stuffed back in its corner immediately). The other two doors up there were closed, but Sara presumed one was a bathroom and the other belonged to the house’s missing second occupant.

“Who _is_ your housemate?” she asked tentatively, as they returned to the living room.

Leonard smiled a little, an expression that seemed both rueful and affectionate, as he sank down onto old but comfortable sofa there. “A friend. Someone I met in juvie when I was 14.” He glanced at her as she sat down next to him, hesitating. “You...you did know I have a juvie record?”

Her father had muttered about that during one of his rants on Leonard being allowed into Sara’s high school. “I did.”

“Yeah...” Len ran a hand over his hair, sighing. “Lewis used to drag me along on ‘jobs,’ even when I was pretty young. Got caught at too many crime scenes...and then busted for shoplifting food for Lisa. My little sister,” he added. “Boom. Pitched into juvie. I probably woulda died that first day if not for Mick.” He nodded at her inquiring look. “His name’s Mick Rory.”

He seemed to expect her to know that name. Sara thought about it, frowning. There was something, on the edge of her memory, something that Laurel or Oliver had said...

“Rory,” she said suddenly. “About my sister’s age, a couple years older than us?” She stared at Leonard in surprise. “He killed his parents. Didn’t he? And burnt down his house.”

There were shadows in Leonard’s eyes again as he glanced around the room. “It was an accident,” he said quietly. “He’s a super. Pyrokinetic.” He shrugged at Sara’s noise of understanding. “And he woke up with the room around him on fire, he was friggin’ 15, he ran. Got blamed in the court of public opinion. But it’s no different than other accidents that have happened when kids get powers.”

He shook his head. “We don’t have organized help, really, for supers—with their powers, or for those are born into less than supportive families. I don’t know the answer. I mean, we don’t want people—or worse, companies or governments--controlling them, but there needs to be a support system.”

Sara made a thoughtful noise, thinking about the growing pains Laurel and Oliver had had with their powers, despite supportive parents, hours of training, and the resources of Star City’s police commissioner and the Queen family fortune at hand.

“Mick’s had pretty good control of his powers for a while now, but then...he caused that fire at new City Hall,” Leonard told her. “Although that was my fault. I got him to come with me; I asked him to use his powers. Just...a spark.” He glanced away uncomfortably. “It got out of control when he tried to cause just enough damage that we could delay whatever Merlyn was up to.” He shook his head. “He left for a while. That’s on me. I hope...I hope he returns soon.”

He threw her a smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve got lots of precautions here, fire-resistant sheets, loads of smoke detectors, extinguishers in every room, me...” He lifted a hand that suddenly sparkled with a limning of frost.

“When...how did you get your powers?”

“Ah.” Leonard studied his icy hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It was after...after the quake. They’d moved us to Central, and Lisa was already with the foster family she’s with now, decent people. They couldn’t take me too—I can’t blame them, not really, taking in one 8-year-old girl is different than taking in the girl and her 15-year-old delinquent brother—and I got stuck in this group home with a bunch of other teenagers with records. Which probably sounds about as rough as it was.”

Whatever her family trials, Sara could only imagine. She moved a little closer to him, trying to share comfort, and he accepted it, letting her snuggle into his side and putting an arm around her shoulders.

“I was…tough enough at that point that I could defend myself, at least if they didn’t team up on me too much,” he said quietly, staring off into space. “But I was also one of the few who were trying to stay clean, to follow the rules. I just wanted the hell out. That made me a target in some ways.” He shrugged, dismissing what were, to Sara, very chilling words. “There were employees there, and some were decent, but…they couldn’t be everywhere all the time. And there were others who just…who just didn’t give a shit. Or who took part.”

The bleak statement made Sara shudder. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Len’s cold hand like she could be the lifeline he hadn’t had back then, and he let her.

“Anyway, I stopped sleeping in the dorm-type thing they had going on, at least all the time. Made a place for myself in this garage thing attached to the building,” he continued. “No one knew it, and as long as I showed up for breakfast, no one cared. Had some blankets, a few books and things I cared about, a secret way in. It worked. At least for the summer.”

Sara closed her eyes, imagining it. The skinny teenaged boy with his tiny hidey-hole, thin blankets on a concrete floor, a few precious possessions tucked away. A photo of his sister, maybe?

“Anyway,” he told her, “I tried to make it last as long as possible, even into the fall. Then the weather took a dip one night. A good 30-degree dip, one of those really abrupt ones.” He shrugged. “I had a really crappy headache that evening; made my way out there even though I probably shouldn’t have and collapsed into the blankets. Thought maybe I was dying, couldn’t bring myself to care.” He glanced at her, then lifted his other hand again, letting an icy second skin cover it. “I woke up 12 hours later, covered in frost.”

When Laurel had gotten her powers (and when Ollie had gotten his, as far as Sara knew), it’d been similar: bad headache, a general feeling of unease, horrible disorientation. But they’d both had concerned parents nearby, a cozy bed, security in a way that Leonard Snart didn’t have. Had never had?

Leonard continued, however, apparently unaware of Sara’s thoughts. “But it wasn’t uncomfortable, not at all. Sort of the opposite. And then I realized that I could control it. The ice. Did my best to try to figure out how it worked, whenever I could sneak away, to try to keep it under wraps.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine how that would have gone over? The son of that monster Lewis Snart, the kid with the juvie record, with superpowers? Due process, hell, I’d never have seen the light of day again.”

Sara bit her lip, unable to argue with him. “It’s tough…I hear it’s tough to get control, sometimes, for some supers,” she said quietly, trying to feel her way through something that’s truthful without spilling Laurel’s secret.

“Well, I’d had experience keeping my emotions in check, you know?” Len tossed her a grin that somehow managed to be both amused and a little rueful. “Then I was lucky. I met Barry’s dad.”

He stared off into space for a moment, then shook his head again. “I…I can’t say everything connected to that. OK?” He glanced at her. “Not my story to tell. But he’s an awful good guy. He helped me get outta the system and figure out a few other things.”

“He knows you’re a super?”

“Yeah.” Len held up a hand then. “And that’s all I can say.”

Sara was dying to know if Barry Allen knew who Captain Cold was now, but she held her peace. And then, deciding that a little distraction might be good for both of them, she leaned over and kissed her superhero. Len was totally amenable to that, and the sofa was soft and comfortable, and...

And it seemed like only a minute or two later that someone pounded on the door, followed by a doorbell chime and Felicity’s cheerful voice caroling “Sa-ra! We’re here!”

Sara bounced to her feet, laughed at Len’s annoyed noise, then ran a hand through her hair (and adjusted her sweater) before she headed for the door, giving him just another moment to regain some equilibrium before she opened it.

“A house! You have an actual house!” Felicity barreled through the door, looking around with great glee and waving distractedly to Len (who’d moved to stand behind an armchair for a moment, to Sara’s amusement). “Oh, this is quite the bachelor pad, isn’t it? You need a decorator. Not me, I suck at that.”

Len blinked at her, then looked at Sara, who was laughing silently as she continued to hold the door. Nate and Amaya, his sometimes-girlfriend, were next, both looking a little green, then Ray and Jax, who didn’t look much better.

“I,” Jax said with a groan, sinking into a recliner, “am never riding in her car again.” He pointed at Felicity, who made a face at him. “I felt better after getting sacked in the game on Friday. And it was far less traumatic!”

That started a round of football talk, as Jax was the quarterback for the Kanigher-Broome football team, which had handily won the homecoming game on Friday and was headed for the playoffs. Amaya rolled her eyes and looked at Sara, who was following the conversation with amusement, and Len, who looked a bit baffled.

“Zari couldn’t make it,” she said. “Some event at her mosque. And Barry and Iris are coming separate. Can’t say I blame them.”

Zari Tomaz could make a computer sit up and beg, but Felicity had a lot of skills in that area too. Sara nodded, looking at Len...who had an odd “listening” expression on his face. Then he headed for the door, paused, and opened it, just in time for Barry to nearly hit him in the nose instead of knocking on the door.

“Sorry!” the other boy blurted out. “Hey, Snart! Um.” He made a show of looking around as he and Iris—both looking a bit wind-blown, Sara thought---walked in. “Nice place you have here.”

Len rolled his eyes. “You’ve been here before,” he commented drily, sauntering back over to the sofa and sitting down next to Sara again. “You and your dad helped us move in.”

“...yeah.” Barry rubbed the back of his neck. Sara eyed him, wondering what about the topic had him so ill at ease. She looked at Iris, but Iris was also watching Barry—not with confusion, but as if she was hearing something different than what was actually being said.

“So!” Ray interrupted their little tableau, looking eager and curious and so very...Ray. “Why have you called us all here today?” He chuckled at his own words. “Sara said you guys needed some help with something.”

Len looked, perhaps, a little rattled at all the people in his space, but he nodded, getting to his feet. This was going to be tough for him, Sara knew, but they’d talked it over and this sort of full disclosure seemed to be the best way to make their case.

“Len?” she said quietly. “Showtime.”

Leonard took a deep breath, looking around at the watchful audience, then held his hands out in front of him, concentrating. Felicity let out an “ooooh” as his hands suddenly started to sparkle with ice, but no one moved as he turned them over, waited another moment, and then suddenly splayed his fingers wide, sending a shower of snow over them all.

Silence, but then Nate—whom Sara knew the least of the group, really—got to his feet, jaw hanging open.

“You’re Captain Cold,” he said, staring. “You’re...you’re a supervillain!”

“He is not!” Sara knew her voice was angry. She was fine with that. She got to her own feet to stand next to Len, who seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do next. “He’s been framed...for most of it, anyway. And...”

But Felicity, who looked a little betrayed, was speaking up. “Sara...” she said, looking at her friend, then Leonard, distress in her eyes, “how long have you known?”

“Not for long,” Len told her firmly, giving Sara an apologetic look for interrupting. “Honest. And she talked me into telling you guys because...we need help.”

“What kinda trouble...” Jax started, while Nate started shaking his head, and Felicity, Iris and Ray immediately said “Of course!” Amaya and Iris merely waited for Leonard to continue (Amaya elbowing her boyfriend in the side).

Leonard and Sara exchanged another look. Then Len set his shoulders, bent down behind the sofa...and picked up the Markov device they’d carried away from the docks, stepping forward to sit it down in the middle of the living room, where it looked incongruously threatening in the middle of the slightly threadbare blue carpet.

Most of them had already lived in Star City two years ago. They’d seen the aftermath of the City Hall quake. They knew what had caused it. Felicity made a disbelieving little noise, putting a hand over her mouth. Jax swore.

“Is that...it is,” Ray breathed, leaning closer to look. “Holy moly.”

Len stood looking down at the device, then lifted his head and scanned everyone’s faces. Well, Sara thought, biting her lip, he certainly had their attention.

“You all know what I am, even without these powers,” he said, looking around the room. “You haven’t held it against me, and I appreciate that.” He took a deep breath. “Two years ago, my dad caused the City Hall quake. And three days before that, Malcolm Merlyn, who’s now the mayor, paid him and gave him the Markov device to do it. One like that.” He pointed to the device sitting in the middle of the floor, everyone giving it a wide berth. “I saw it. No one believed me.”

Everyone was silent, watching him.

“And now he’s up to something else,” Leonard continued. “Merlyn. Something called Project Tempest. And I’m still not positive what that is, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with those.” He nodded to the device. “Sara and I...disrupted...a shipment of them a few nights ago, but Merlyn has money. He’ll get more. And these, too.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out two of the silver wristbands Sara had taken from the scene. “We need your help to figure out what they are. And what the plan is.”

“And how to stop it,” Sara added.

Everyone looked at everyone else for a beat...and then all of them were talking, and Jax, Barry, and Ray were studying the device, while Felicity got up and took the wristbands from Len, sitting down with Nate and Amaya to inspect them. Iris approached Sara and Leonard, smiling at the open amazement on the latter’s face.

“This group isn’t precisely predisposed to blind respect for authority, especially when crap like this is involved,” she told him drily, then looked at Sara. “So, I imagine you’d like me to see what I can find out at the paper?”

Even as Sara nodded, though, Nate looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Shouldn’t we, y’know, tell someone?” he asked almost apologetically. “Someone at the paper? Or the old mayor?” He glanced at Sara. “The police commissioner?”

Sara couldn’t stop the pang that went through her at the words, but he did have a point.

“We think Merlyn has some sort of superpowers himself,” she said. “Len said that he put some sort of whammy on Lewis Snart to keep him ratting from Merlyn out after Snart was arrested. And...” She sighed. “My dad hasn’t been acting like himself. I think he might be under that influence too.”

Nate nodded, but then Amaya spoke up.

“We should try to contact the Black Canary and Green Arrow,” she said practically. “I mean, they’re Star City’s biggest heroes. Wouldn’t it make sense?”

Felicity glanced at Sara, then very obviously looked away. Fortunately, though, Sara was saved from anyone noticing that by the sound of Leonard loudly clearing his throat...and looking steadily at Barry, who was avoiding his eyes.

Iris followed her line of sight, then sighed. “Barry,” she said quietly. “I know you’re not supposed to. But...this could be big. And Leonard trusted all of us...”

Now everyone was staring at Barry, who shook his head, a rueful look on his face.

“You’re right,” he said. “Just...guys, try to keep this quiet. OK?” Then he took a deep breath, and...flickered, for lack of a better word, a rush of golden lightning flashing around the room, lighting up amazed faces, until he came to a stop in the same place, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

Sara, stunned, closed her mouth on a gasp and glanced at Leonard. He gave her an amused—and very unsurprised—smile. Jerk.

Felicity was bouncing on her toes, eyes round and startled.

“You’re a speedster,” she gasped. “You’re...the Flash!”

Barry shook his head violently. “No!” Then he considered. “Well, I’m a speedster. The Flash...well, I’m his protégé, I guess you’d say.” He spread his hands out, giving them a rather self-deprecating smile.

“I’m not supposed to use my powers for anything more than, well, basic transportation unless I’m under his direct supervision,” he continued. “Not yet. Speedster supers, they sort of run in my family. And there’s a really serious sort of protocol for them...us. We police our own.” He shook his head. “Speedsters can screw up too much. We can even time travel, Jay...my mentor...says.”

Nate made a slightly rude noise at that.

“Time travel?” he scoffed, looking around at Sara and Jax, Ray and Amaya. “Seriously? Who believes in that?”

But Barry was eying Leonard, who gave him a slight smirk. “You knew?” the speedster asked, apparently responding to the utter nonchalance on the other super’s face.

Len shrugged. “Yeah, well, your dad’s a good guy, but he knew an awful lot about how to get me help with my powers. I figured he had inside information somehow.” He studied Barry. “And you knew about me.”

“Yeah.” Barry looked sheepish, glancing around the room. “Well, suspected. I knew my dad had encountered someone with ice powers. We talked about it. For...reasons. That was right around the time he started helping Snart here with the emancipation thing.” He looked at Leonard. “And then Captain Cold appeared right after you moved here...c’mon, I know I’m going into forensics, but that’s not even that hard!”

Sara couldn’t help it. She laughed. “When you put it that way,” she said, “it does seem sort of obvious.”

“Hmm.” Leonard shook his head. “Well, let’s hope other people don’t think so.” He looked around. “So. That’s the pitch. Everyone in? We’re kind of at your mercy now.”

The agreement was enthusiastic...and unanimous.


	7. Bad Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The story has been expanded to eight chapters and an epilogue, but all are now completed. And chapter 8 and the epilogue will be posted together in the next few days. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the betas.

Leonard, Nate, and Felicity, since she had the sole car amongst the group at the moment, went with Ray to take their purloined Markov device to some sort of site he promised was remote and safe. Len gave Sara a dramatic roll of the eyes as they left, but since they’d determined (as much as a bunch of gifted high-school students could) that it was defunct right now, she didn’t worry. Much.

Amaya, Jax, Barry and Iris stayed with Sara, inspecting the wristbands, which Jax seemed to think might hold some sort of trackers. Sara, whose area of expertise wasn’t in any sort of tech, left them to it after a moment, moving to Len’s old laptop to look for other information.

After a moment, Iris joined her, sitting down to peer at the screen. And Sara, who knew perfectly well that Iris was more gifted at information acquisition than she was, ceded the computer, watching while her friend started doing her thing,

Odd. It didn’t hurt so much now, at least quite so much, knowing that others are better at other aspects of this whole…superhero…thing than she is. She was starting to realize just how much it was all a combination of talents, some of them super, some of them not.

And hers…hers fit right in in their own way.

“Ahhh,” Iris said after a moment. “I found the mayor’s schedule for the next week, although they haven’t released it yet. He has a press conference scheduled on Friday afternoon. Something to do with ‘new city security measures.’” She darted a glance at Sara. “That…seems interesting.”

“Yeah.” Sara nibbled her lip. “But what sort? And why?”

Iris rested her hands on her lap, watching the screen. “Sara…what if we go to the paper about this? This is…this is big. And trust me, there’s no love lost between the managing editor—or the city hall reporter—and the mayor.”

It made sense in some ways, but… “Back when Len accused Merlyn in the first place, no one reported on it.” She held up a hand as Iris started to defend her intended profession. “And I know that’s because it never got outside the walls of new City Hall. But if Merlyn has these powers…I think it’s best it stays between us right now. The types of people he’d never think to worry about.”

“You have a point.” Iris sighed. “It’s just…scary. To know so much might rely on us.” She looked down at the computer screen. “I wish I could tell my dad, at least.”

Joe West was an upper-level detective. “Yeah,” Sara said quietly. “I know the feeling.”

* * *

Ray seemed to think that there would be some sort of way to turn the Markov devices off remotely, “with a pulse of some sort,” he said earnestly. However, the problem with that was that a pulse, Jax pointed out, might also set them off. That took the wind out of Ray’s sails a little, but not that much…and the next day, he reported that he and Nate had managed to defuse their sample device’s detonation mechanism so that they could test how it responded to different sorts of pulses without actually setting it off.

Sara had stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway at school—fortunately, the little-used hallway going to the technology and arts classrooms—and stared at him.

“Ray,” she said after a moment, “I mean, that’s great. But how are you not dead?”

Ray gave her a confused look. “What do you mean? I just…” His eyes lit up with memory, and he started sketching out something with his hands. “…I just disconnected this (term that Sara didn’t quite understand) and move (another term) and that did it!” He nodded to her. “We tested it too. It didn’t go off!”

Sara stared at him a little more. Ray blinked back at her.

“What?” he asked, as other students detoured to go around them.

“You…tested it.”

“Well, yeah. We had to.” Ray grinned again. “I mean, I was pretty sure. And we had it all the way out in the woods behind my house.”

“What was Nate doing during this?” Sara ran a hand over her face, feeling older than 17.

“He was filming it. I mean, we might want that info later.”

Sara gave up. At least it was a step forward.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Iris told Sara and Leonard that the mayor’s press office had officially released his schedule with the Friday press conference on it. No further details, though. Just “city security measures.”

Leonard frowned, staring off into the distance, then gave Iris a rueful smile. “Thanks,” he told her sincerely. “Thanks a lot. That’s important. That means he knows…”

“…that his plans can go on.” Iris nodded to him. “So, there’s probably going to be some sort of shipment coming in…or it already has.”

“I don’t know of anything.” Len looked distinctly unhappy. “He must be bringing them in some other way.”

“It makes sense, if he figures that you have a source of information that let you know about the first shipment.” Iris and Sara exchanged a glance, and Sara continued. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Leonard had that look on his face that Sara recognized as pulling inward and away. “I shouldn’t have involved all of you in this,” he said in a low tone. Sara opened her mouth to inform him otherwise, but she was cut off by another voice.

“Darn right you should have!”

Both Ray Palmer and Barry Allen were standing there, looking determined. Ray, who’d spoken, nodded firmly.

“A few of us are getting together to try some more things on the device,” Ray said. “And Felicity, Barry and Jax found some microchips in the wristlets, and they’re studying them. Meet up tomorrow?”

Whether Leonard was having second thoughts about involving them all or not, the plans were made with or without him. The other wandered off (Iris throwing them a wink over her shoulder) and Leonard and Sara just looked at each other.

Finally, Leonard sighed. “I’m going to go try to find some of my sources tonight,” he said rather apologetically. “And you’re great backup…really, you know I mean that…but this will work better if I’m alone, or at least if I don’t have…”

“…the police commissioner’s daughter with you?” Sara smiled at him a little, appreciating the reassurance even if it’s not really necessary. “It’s OK. I have a few things I need to try myself.”

Leonard lifted an eyebrow but accepted the statement without comment. He didn’t laugh or question her about what one young woman with no powers or tech know-how could possibly do.

And for that, and other things, Sara went right up on her toes there outside the high school, kissing Leonard Snart firmly on the mouth. And despite all their problems and worry, everything, for one moment, felt OK.

* * *

But it wasn’t, and Sara knew it, and one of those things she needed to try was something she really, really didn’t want to do.

“Hey, Dad?”

She’d known her father would be home, at least briefly, that night. He’d promised Laurel that he’d reset the police scanner they kept, as a recent power outage had sent it out of whack. (Super instincts were good, but the scanner sure didn’t hurt.) And Laurel and Oliver were out, dealing with yet-another-blamed-on-Captain-Cold incident at the Star City Credit Union. (They were lying in wait for Cold, who was supposedly holed up inside, although Sara knew perfectly well he was nowhere in the vicinity.)

“Hey, baby girl!” Quentin Lance gave his younger daughter a big hug, and although she hated that pet name, hugs from her dad were rare enough these days that she just closed her eyes and hugged him back, resting her head on his shoulder. He couldn’t be involved in this mess, she thought as she did so. He just _couldn’t_.

“Hi, Dad.” Sara finally told a step back and looked at the scanner her dad was messing around with on the kitchen table. “That thing fixable?”

“I think so.” Quentin studied it himself. “Well. Tech isn’t really my thing. If it isn’t…I’ll get another one.” He gave her a grin that made her heart hurt, mostly because they were so rare these days. And partly because she was using this, these precious few minutes here with her dad, to deceive him. Or at least it felt that way.

Her father had picked up a screwdriver and started prodding the back panel of the scanner with it. “So, honey, you’ve seemed really busy lately.” Another quick smile. “New girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

As much as Sara was privately sure her dad would prefer her to have a boyfriend (he just understood that more), he’d never been anything even remotely less than accepting since she came out as bi. She just gave him a smile in return and a quick shake of her head, trying at least to avoid lying out loud. He’d taken Nyssa as her girlfriend far better than he’d take Leonard as her boyfriend, of that she was sure.

Quentin just chuckled in return, accepting that at face view. “Well, I know there’s a lot going on senior year.” He popped a panel off the back of the scanner. “You’ll tell me if you’re having trouble with anything, right?”

Her heart hurt again. “Right, Dad.”

“Good.”

It’s as good a time as any to ask. “Iris told me that the mayor has some sort of press conference planned for Friday afternoon,” she said carefully, taking a seat. “Something to do with security, but not even the people at the paper know what. Do you?”

There’s no better way to describe it: Quentin Lance’s face lit up. And Sara’s heart plummeted.

“Oh, honey,” her father said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “He has quite a plan, Malcolm does. I can’t tell you anything about it, not yet, but he’s going to make sure that so many of Star City’s problems with violence are things of the past. You wait and see.” A shadow crossed his eyes. “We’ll never have to worry about people like that Captain Cold again.”

Sara stared at him, but he seemed oblivious to her distress, smiling down at the scanner. Then he glanced up again…and this time, something seemed to register.

“It’s OK, baby,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “The only people who need to worry about it are the bad guys. Troublemakers. Not like you. The ones who _deserve_ it.”

That’s _not_ like him. “But…but who decides who the bad guys _are_? And what they deserve?”

For the first time, there was a flicker of something on her dad’s face. Not annoyance at her. More like he was remembering something or feeling a moment of doubt.

Sara nibbled her lip, watching. Her father was passionate about the law, but he’d always spoken about how important it was that that was true for everyone, that those who enforced the law were held to a high standard, that the spirit was followed as well as the letter, that his department treated everyone fairly.

That was one of the reasons Laurel wanted to be a defense attorney. And one of the reasons Lewis Snart had found himself without a job after an investigation had found him guilty of taking kickbacks and bribes.

“I…” he said finally, faintly, blinking. “That’s a good point, hon.”

Sara smiled at him, trying to hide her inner turmoil. “So…who does?”

But then Quentin’s expression abruptly went back to rather condescending, and he shook his head, smiling again. “Oh, everyone knows who the bad guys are, sweetie.” His expression hardened. “And they deserve what they get.”

It’d been like someone had flipped a light switch, like he was parroting someone else’s words. Sara wanted to cry. Instead, she just gave her father a less-than-sincere, tight-lipped smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

“You’ll see, honey. Everything will be just fine.”

* * *

Not long after that, Quentin Lance left to head back to the office, giving his younger daughter a kiss on the forehead before he left, totally oblivious to her turmoil.  

Sara watched him leave, then took a deep breath. Her next plan wasn’t as personally draining, but she wasn’t sure how it would go, either.

She opened her email, finding a message she’d received earlier in the day, and read it again. Then, biting her lip, she picked up her phone…and stared at it, considering her words.

Then she made the call.

* * *

Leonard looked exhausted the next day, dark shadows under his eyes, and when Sara gave him an inquiring look, he shook his head abruptly in a clear negative. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, but she could tell that any hope he’d once harbored had been dangerously drained.

Somehow, they made it through their classes. Leonard didn’t take his motorcycle to school most of the time, but he had today, and Sara rode home with him, arms around him, cheek pressed against his back.

They beat the others there, but not by as much as Sara had expected—and she was pretty sure Barry (carrying Iris) had purposefully not even left until he’d given them enough time to get to Leonard’s house.

It was a sober group that collected, and even the meager good news that Ray had managed to deactivate a Markov device with a particular pulse didn’t cheer them much, as the pulse had to originate from far too nearby to be practical.

“We have 24 hours.” Len’s words, and his expression, were bleak. “If any of you want to bail and forget you know anything about this, I understand.” He held up a hand as the chorus of denial rose. “Seriously. This…this could be very dangerous information to have, as little of it as there is.” He took a deep breath. “Merlyn’s…he won’t go easy on any of us because we’re young, if he finds out we’re working against him.”

Felicity bounded to her feet, shaking her head vehemently. “We _know_ that,” she told him firmly. “We do! But…this is important.” She looked around. “All of us knew someone affected by the quake. And this could be so much worse.”

Jax rose too. “Man, we all got people who could be affected if it happens again. My mom’s still terrified whenever she thinks she feels a tremble of any kind.” He nodded. “If we might be able to stop it from happening again, we should try. All there is to it.”

Leonard scanned the room, looking disbelieving at all the agreement. Then he shrugged, but Sara thought that, maybe, he looked a little relieved…and pleased.

“OK, then,” he said. “And…thanks.” Uncomfortable with the moment (or so Sara guessed), he glanced over at her. “Sara, tell us what you learned. From your father.”

She’d already told him earlier, but the group had to know. Sara’s stomach turned over again as she told them about her dad’s words about “bad guys”…and how he’d seemed to think for himself for just a few moments before he’d flipped back to believing Malcolm Merlyn held the key to everything.

The room was quiet as they all digested it. They were all smart kids, Sara knew. It’d hard not to see the connotations there.

“It’d be too easy to call me a ‘bad guy’ for any number of reasons,” Leonard said, his voice quiet. “My dad, my juvie record. My alter ego…”

“And let’s be honest, too many times, _some_ people’s idea of what ‘bad guys’ look like comes down to someone like me,” Jax added. Amaya and Iris both made quiet noises of agreement. “Or Zari.” The engineering student looked a combination of worried and furious. “But…what in particular _is_ this plan?”

“He wouldn’t say.” Sara sighed. “I’m sorry…”

Jax patted her arm. “Sara, not your fault.” He scanned the group too, then glanced at Leonard. “OK, well, we’ve been studying the wristlets you found. Pried two microchips out of them.”

Felicity got back up again, picking up the thread. “One of the chips in here is definitely a tracker. If it was powered up…and no, we didn’t try…it would send out a signal anyone with the right equipment could find,” she said. “But there’s another chip too, and we don’t know what that does.”

“A tracker?” Nate sounded intrigued and disturbed in equal measure. “I can’t think of any good reasons for that. Especially not that many of them. You said boxes and boxes, right? And a lot of those things would fit in a box.”

“Enough for the whole city?” Amaya asked quietly.

Silence followed the words. Then, slowly, Leonard nodded. “Maybe,” he said, glancing at Sara. “There were a lot of boxes.”

“Great,” Nate mutters. “Historically, that sort of thing? Not a good idea.”

There were many noises of agreement. Leonard sighed. “OK,” he muttered. “Well, I guess try to figure out what the other chip is for. Raymond? You had some luck with the device?”

Ray launched into an explanation of his findings. Sara, attention wandering just a little, glanced over at the others, noticing Barry shift over to study the extra wristlets, which were sitting on a table by the sofa.

Then Nate and Ray started arguing about something to do with the pulse and the device, and Sara glanced away, and then others chimed in. So, when Barry’s voice, an octave higher than usual, rose over the din, she was just as surprised as everyone else.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Barry yelled, jumping to his feet and shaking his arm—which now bore a slim silver wristlet. Everyone stared at him, even Iris, who apparently hadn’t been at all aware of what her boyfriend was doing.

“Barry,” she said urgently, standing. “What…”

“I can’t run!” The speedster’s eyes were wild. “My powers are gone! I put it on because I figured I could just phase out of it, but my powers…they just shut off!”

Everyone was talking at once, but Leonard promptly crossed the room, hand out. As Sara watched, he grabbed the wristlet, fingers ringing the band. “Allen, hold still!” he ordered, then concentrated.

There was a sudden chill…but the ice that emerged from Leonard’s fingers was confined to a very narrow field, narrower than Sara had ever seen him manage before. Barry didn’t even flinch, which Sara thought was impressive, but as soon as Leonard released his wrist, he lifted it above his head and then brought it down hard on the end table. The wristlet, supercooled, shattered, sending shards of metal everywhere, the watchers diving away.

Barry promptly flashed away in a golden blur, back in seconds, a look of tremendous relief on his features. “Thank you,” he told Leonard fervently. “Thank you! That was…that was so _weird_. It was creepy enough to not be able to run, but it…it sort of hurt.” He shuddered. “I don’t know. It was like a part of me was just…out of my control. The best way I can explain it is that it was…like my own eyes wouldn’t blink when I wanted them to, no matter how I tried.”

“You idiot,” Iris told him affectionately, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t ever do something as stupid as that again.”

“Good luck with that,” Leonard muttered, getting an unwilling giggle from Sara.

Ray bent down and picked up a piece of the wristlet, which was still exuding a little vapor. “So, it turns off superpowers. Does it do anything else? I mean, you said…do you think it lets someone control powers? Someone else?”

There was a moment of silence again. Then Amaya said softly, “Someone like Malcolm Merlyn?”

Sara shivered, thinking of Laurel and Oliver. Next to her, Leonard was so still he could have been a statue.

Barry shook his head violently. “I’m not putting that thing back on to test it.”

“You don’t have to,” Jax said practically. “We don’t have whatever would let us try it out anyway.”

Barry glanced around. “Could Merlyn require everyone to wear those things?” he asked plaintively. “Is that...is that really a thing that could happen?”

“If he could get it through the city council, sure he could.” Nate frowned. “I mean, there’d be all kinds of civil rights and privacy issues, and people could fight it on a higher level and probably even win...but in the moment? Yeah. And once he does that...”

“He’d have control of any number of supers,” Leonard said. “Me, Allen, the Black Canary, the Green Arrow...others who don’t really do the hero thing. They’re out there.” He sounded almost numb. “And that...whammy of his. If it’s really a thing—and it seems like it is—how many people can he control with that?” He shook his head. “Just because he’s kept it to a handful so far doesn’t mean he won’t try to go big once he has his plan in place.”

Sara spun, looking at Iris. “Is this press conference supposed to be televised? Live?”

The journalism intern bit her lip. “Well, the release was sent to all the local stations. Pitched as _very_ important. So...probably?”

“I wonder if he can do...his whammy...over the airwaves?” Barry wondered aloud.

“But not everyone will watch even then,” Ray pointed out.

“He doesn’t need to...coerce...everyone,” Leonard said, his voice harsh. “Most people, they like the idea of there being ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ and, of course, _they’re_ never the bad guys. The bad guys can be locked up without trial, for all they care. If he can get a good chunk of the city listening, then most people will fall in line with their brainwashed neighbors, because _of course_ this is a wonderful thing.”

“But we don’t even know what the whole plan is!” Jax threw his hands up in the air.

For a moment, they just all stared at each other. Sara glanced at Leonard, who had his eyes closed. He looked a little overwhelmed—not surprising, really, considering how long he’d fought his battles alone.

But he didn’t need to anymore. And it wasn’t just _his_ battle.

Sara took a deep breath, nodded, and started giving orders.

“Ray, Nate, continue to work on the device,” she told them. “Whatever happens, we need to be able to turn them off.” She turned to Barry and Jax. “Same with the wristbands. Is there a way of stopping the locator signal? Or blocking whatever blocks...or controls...powers?”

Then she looked at Felicity and Iris. “Is there any chance that Merlyn would put his speech online before the press conference?”

Iris looked doubtful. “Not with all the secrecy surrounding this. The people in the newsroom weren’t happy, because there’s no clarification whatsoever coming out of city hall. But I’ll look.”

Sara tilted her head at Felicity then. “Or maybe it’s just on his computer...”

Her friend’s eyes lit with glee. “Sara,” she breathed, bouncing in her seat, “are you telling me to break the law?”

“I think that in the world according to Malcolm Merlyn, we’re all breaking the law already.”

“Yay!” Felicity pulled her own laptop out of her bag. As she bent over it, muttering to herself, Sara glanced at Amaya, who smiled, spreading her hands out before her.

“Not so much to do for the veterinary science student,” she said with amusement. “But...I know some people who are..." She nibbled her lip. “...well. Let’s just say they’re students of superpowers. I’ll go make a few calls. Maybe they’ll have some idea if what we’re afraid of, with those wristlets, is possible...and how to undo it if it is.”

At Sara’s nod, Amaya headed toward the kitchen, pulling out her phone as she went. Sara looked at Leonard, who seemed a little stunned by how she’d taken over—but pleased and relieved, if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

“You’re a far better leader than I am,” he told her, moving nearer. “Thank you.”

“You’ve been a lone wolf for far too long.” Sara lifted her hands, resting them against his chest. “You were looking a little overwhelmed right there. You OK?”

He gave her a tiny smile. “Not particularly.” But his hands came up to cover hers. “Like I said before, I’m a ‘bad guy’ by so many people’s standards. The only reason I got a second chance at all was because Barry’s dad took a chance and helped me. This ‘plan’ of Merlyn’s...whatever it is, it terrifies me.”

Sara took a deep breath. “Len,” she said, “if we can’t stop whatever it is...leave Star City. Go to Central, be near your sister, find another place and another chance. It’s not that I want you to go,” she added as he started to protest, “it’s just that you deserve that. OK? Promise?”

Leonard stared down at her, his eyes dark and conflicted. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I can’t just leave.”

“Len...”

But then Ray started whooping about some success with his experiments, and Felicity started yelling both at him and at her computer, and the conversation was done.

For the moment.


	8. Villain Monologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you go! I posted both the last full chapter and the epilogue, for reasons. ;) Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Many thanks to Lariel Romeniel for the beta!

By the evening, they were all still there, although Jax had left for a while for football practice. They’d pooled cash and Barry had flashed out to get some pizza, and everyone’s parents thought they were somewhere different.

Felicity was mumbling around a breadstick as she continued to try to hack into the City Hall computers. Leonard was helplessly trying to make sure there weren’t crumbs everywhere, and Sara was wondering if her phone call the day before had fallen on uninterested ears, after all. She hadn’t thought so, but...

“Guys, I’m sorry, I gotta get home.” Jax had returned for a bit after practice, but he looked wiped out. “My mom’s only going to accept the new ‘new study group’ excuse for so long. And Coach Diggle has been wanting us there every morning for workouts, too.”

Len, who’d been testing the microchips on a circuit board with him, nodded. “I get it,” he said, wiping a hand over his face. “You all have lives. I’m sorry I...”

“Shut up!” a chorus of voices said in unison, making Sara laugh and Leonard start in surprise.

“We have made progress,” Ray reminded him. “I just have to get this thing...” He patted the device he’d built to make the electric pulses. “...within a certain distance of the Markov devices to deactivate them, and that distance is a lot shorter than it used to be. I’ll keep working on it... and maybe we can figure out where they’ve been placed...”

“And we know more about these too,” Amaya said, holding up a wristband. “And my friends are working on it as well.” She wouldn’t tell them just who her “friends” were, but none of them were going to look askance at any help at this point.

“We have part of tomorrow,” Jax continued. “And I might ask Dr. Stein, too.” He grinned at Leonard’s skeptical look. “He’s a good guy. Really. And he’d be no kinda fan of...” He looked down at the wristband. “...of labeling people who are ‘different’ in some way and controlling them. Yeah. No.”

Leonard let out a long sigh. “OK. Well...”

“We have a problem.”

Iris’ voice was terse and unhappy, and all of them looked at her immediately. She was biting her lip and staring down at her laptop screen, and Sara felt a chill sweep over her at her friend’s expression.

Then Iris looked back up at them. “Merlyn. He’s moved the press conference up. To 8 a.m. tomorrow instead of 4 p.m. The change was just made to his online schedule, though I’ll bet he hasn’t told the media yet.” She tapped a key. “And there’s a special council meeting at 7 a.m.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the room.

“He’s ready,” Leonard said then. “He’s got everything ready to go already, and it’s just a matter of pushing it through and implementing it.”

Nate got to his feet, frowning. “Doesn’t the city council have to let people know about meetings?” he asked. “When I went to one with the city historian, he was talking about that.”

“They’re supposed to publish a notice a certain amount of time in advance—but they can say it’s an emergency and it wasn’t possible.” Iris glanced around the room. “And if they have a quorum, it’s supposed to be open to the public—but they can also claim ‘an issue of public safety’ and get away with that too. Mac, the city hall reporter, is going to be really pissed.”

“Jackpot!” Felicity’s cry dropped into another moment of silence. The hacker jumped to her feet and throw her hands in the air in a touchdown sign, making Jax laugh and the rest of them move closer. “He’s got some good firewalls on his personal computer, but I’m better.” She blew on her fingernails and preened. “It will take some time to go through everything, but I have his speech. For tomorrow.”

“Allen!” Leonard’s voice was commanding. “Can you read as fast as you run?”

“Yeah?” Barry blinked at him. “So?”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Then read, Barry, read,” he said drily. “It’d take too long for someone to read that aloud and even longer for us to pass it around.”

Looking sheepish, the speedster held out a hand for the laptop, and Felicity handed it over. The room was quiet as they all watched him scroll, eyes flashing from word to word, his expression growing more and more horrified.

Then he handed the computer to Leonard, and swallowed, hard.

“He says, in that, that the City Council has approved a measure requiring everyone over age 5 in the city to wear those.” He pointed to the wristlets. “And he’s quite upfront that they’re trackers...and that they’ll inhibit superpowers. The phrase was ‘From now on, only supers who behave in an upstanding and proper way will have the privilege of using their gifts in the service of Star City.’”

“Ugh,” Nate whispered as they digested that. “That’s Nazi enough, but why does everyone have to wear one?”

“Because of the trackers.” Barry’s expression was bleak. “And because he says the Markov devices are planted around the city. And they’ll be used on ‘any area that cannot police itself and control its people in a satisfactory way.’ Although quote-unquote ‘law-abiding citizens can earn warning and the right to move’ out of these zones.”

Jax cursed. “And lemme guess...”

“The Glades,” Len murmured. “The Heights. Pennytown. The old Warehouse District. Little Russia. Chinatown.” He shook his head. “What do you want to bet all the ritzy neighborhoods don’t have them at all?”

“I bet they do.” Ray sounded grim. “Because Merlyn will want to keep his rivals in check too.”

“My dad can’t be OK with this.” Sara felt like she wanted to throw up. “He _can’t_. This is against everything he stands for. And...” She stopped. And his older daughter and her boyfriend, an honorary member of the family, were supers. Although supposedly “upstanding and proper” ones. Or would they be considered so if they weren’t at City Hall’s beck and call?

“There will be protests.” Amaya’s anger shone through her eyes. “And legal challenges. No one will take this without fighting.”

Jax snorted. “And then the protesters can be branded ‘bad guys,’” he said, shaking his head. “Self-fulfilling prophecy. Oldest trick in the book.”

Iris paced to one side of the room, then back. “But if he can control enough of the right people, though, he’ll have all that power consolidated first. Before any legal challenges,” she said. “It will be harder to undo. Especially if our guess is right and those wristlets will let him control supers, too.”

“And the problem is, Leonard’s right. Most people will just assume that since they see themselves as fine law-abiding citizens, why, it will be no problem for them,” Nate added cynically. “ ‘First they came for the socialists...’”

Leonard took a deep breath. “I’m moving,” he said, scanning them. “Now. I’m going to the City Hall offices. I’ll bet Merlyn’s still there. And I’ll do what I have to.”

“Snart...” Barry started.

“And what’s that?” Sara asked him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. “Are you willing to kill him? Would you go that far?” She met his conflicted gaze, not backing down. “You’re not that kind of person, Leonard.”

He let out a long sigh, meeting her eyes...and then tilted his head in agreement.

“No,” he said quietly. “But we can’t let just this happen.”

“We won’t,” Sara whispered. “I promise. We won’t.” She gave him a smile. “And I’m going with you. If my dad’s there...maybe I can get through to him.”

Barry nodded too, looking grim—and determined.

“I’m going to my dad. And then to the Flash,” he told them. “He’s faster than I am, and between the two of us, maybe we can work with Ray’s gadget there to take out everything fast enough. Even if Merlyn figures out we’re on to him and activates them.”

Ray nodded, standing. “Felicity, can you give me a ride back to my house?” he asked. “I probably have enough parts to make another one of these.” He waved his pulse-creating device in the air. “One for each of them.”

Felicity eyed him, folding her arms. “I thought you said you were never riding with me again?”

“No, that was Jax.” Ray gave her an innocent look. “Please?”

“Oh, all right.” Sara’s best friend looked around at her. “I’ll meet you at the city offices. I need to pick something up anyway.”

Felicity wasn’t the person Sara had expected to have as backup. “Uh, Fliss...”

“Don’t argue with me, Lance.” Felicity pointed at her and tried to look threatening. Badly. “You need me. I’m going.”

Iris held up a hand to forestall her. “And I’m going to the paper. They need to know about this. This is their—our--job. Can you send that speech to me? Before you leave?”

“Oh. Right!” As Felicity sat back down and muttered over her computer, Jax exchanged a glance with Amaya. They lived, respectively, in the Heights and Pennytown, two old African American neighborhoods in the city, although Amaya was actually visiting family from her home in Zambesi, Africa.

“I want to go see if anyone’s seen anything,” Jax said, picking up his equipment bag. “And...maybe see if I can get my mom to go visit some family in Central City. Tonight.”

Amaya nodded. “Someone should also warn people in the Glades,” she said. “Of all the neighborhoods in Star...if Merlyn wanted to make a demonstration, that’s where it would be.”

Of course. Of course, it would be.

“You’re right. More than you even know.” Sara couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this detail before. “Malcolm Merlyn’s wife died in the Glades. About 10 years ago. An attempted robbery. Yes. That would be first.”

Amaya grabbed her jacket. “I’m heading there now. Jax? Want a ride?”

“Wait!” Ray paused in the act of packing up his gadgetry. “You have a car today?”

“Borrowed my cousin’s.”

“I could have gone with you instead of...” He gave Felicity a woebegone glance, getting a chilly glare in response. “Uh. Never mind. Nate?”

The history student sighed. “Right. Can I get a lift too?”

Felicity waved her hand magnanimously and the two boys preceded her out the door, looking a little nervous. They were followed by Amaya, who gave Sara a quick hug first, and Jax. Barry held a quiet-voiced conversation with Leonard, sounding both determined and a little upset, then shook his head, gave Sara a small, sad smile, jerking his head at Len as if to say, “Take care of this loser.”

Or so Sara interpreted it. She smiled back with a nod, trying to convey just how committed she was to the idea, and Barry nodded back, heading out the door.

Iris, who’d observed that wordless conversation, shook her head and then hugged Sara hard.

“Be _careful_!” she said fiercely. “If we’re right…he’s dangerous. Really dangerous.” She glanced at Leonard. “Don’t be an idiot,” she told him. “Heroes have a tendency to do that. Trust me; I know. I date Barry, after all.”

That got a laugh. “No one’s else said ‘hero’ was on my resume,” Leonard told her solemnly. “No worries.”

Iris frowned at him, clearly not buying it, then looked back and forth between them.

“Take care of each other,” she told them. “I’ll make sure the story’s told.”

“And that,” Leonard told her, “is heroism too.”

* * *

After the others are gone, Sara expected Len to leave immediately as well. But for a moment, he just stood there, in the living room, looking around, something melancholy in his gaze. After a moment, Sara stepped up next to him, watching him silently.

He gave her a half-smile. “I just…depending on how this goes…I might not be coming back here.” He sighed. “I mean, I’d try to stay in Star, keep fighting, if I can, but I can’t put the people here at risk. I doubt this neighborhood is one on Merlyn’s list of likely problems at all, but I won’t risk him figuring out who I am and where I live and harming them in any way…and that’s if I even walk away from this at all.”

He hesitated then, regarding her. “Sara…are you sure you don’t want…”

But he didn’t even finish the thought, because Sara was scowling at him, arms folded.

“No,” she said, definitively. “I’m seeing this through.”

That got a sigh, but also a clearly relieved smile. “I didn’t expect you wouldn’t…but I had to try,” he said quietly.

Sara kissed him, then, a quick kiss but a heartfelt one, then left him alone for a minute to consider the home he’d made for himself, the one he might be losing…or never coming home to, in one way or another.

And that thought was what drove her outside then, dialing a number before she could stop herself. She didn’t usually call Laurel at this number—her sister’s “Black Canary” burner phone for emergencies—but it seemed like it was time.

“Sara?” Laurel sounded surprised. “Ollie and I are on patrol…are you OK? Are you still at Felicity’s?”

Sara took a deep breath. “Laurel. First, is Dad still at the office?”

“Yes, I think...”

“OK. I have something to tell you, and don’t interrupt me, OK?”

“Sa—”

“The mayor is up to something, Laurel. Something bad. He has Markov devices planted all over the city, and a way to inhibit supers’ powers.” It sounded so…so supervillain. “Maybe even to control them. Oh, and he might have powers himself; we’re pretty sure he does.” Laurel tried to interrupt again; Sara kept going. “He almost certainly has Dad under his influence.” That had to be it. She wouldn’t consider otherwise.

“Sara!” Laurel sounds appalled. “Are you…what the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? High?”

“Laurel, I’ve never been more sober or serious in my life.” Sara bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “My friends and I have been…investigating.” Please, Laurel. “One of those friends is Leonard Snart. He saw Merlyn pay off his father two years ago and give him the Markov device.”

She could hear her sister’s indrawn breath. “You’re kidding.”

Well, at least Laurel hadn’t immediately tried to shut her down. “I’m not. And…” She’d meant to tell her sister about Len’s identity, but she just couldn’t do it, not without his consent. “You just need to know. And we’re heading out now. Laurel, I love you.” Sara took a deep breath. “I’ll see you later. I hope.”

And then, over her sister’s protests, she hung up.

* * *

Leonard and Sara rode the motorcycle to the temporary City Hall offices in silence. Len tucked the bike away in a nearby grove of urban trees, then took out his parka, goggles and hood. Sara made sure her hair was safely pinned back, and her own white domino was on. It probably didn’t matter at this point, but if she had any chance at all of keeping her identity from Merlyn, she had to try.

Leonard gave her a steady gaze but didn’t try to change her mind. Still, he did hesitate before putting his own goggles on, stepping closer. Sara looked up at him, aware that they were on a precipice here, balancing, moments before tumbling off.

“Sara Lance,” he said quietly. “No matter what happens here…I’m honored to have known you.”

He sounded like…like he wasn’t planning to walk back out of here tonight. Sara lifted her eyebrows, trying to downplay it even as she couldn’t ignore her concern. “Honored?” she said lightly, stepping a little closer in turn. “Is that the best you can do?”

Leonard smiled a little. “Very pleased,” he allowed. “Thrilled? Ecstatic?” He put a hand at her waist and pulled her closer, expression going more serious. “I didn’t expect…you,” he said in a low tone. “When I came to Star City. I had a mission, and I didn’t want anything to distract me from it. I didn’t think anything would.” His amazing blue eyes stared into hers. “Thank you. For distracting me in the best way. For making me remember I was more than just Lewis Snart’s son or Captain Cold. For…”

But Sara had hooked her hands around her neck and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him like she’d never get the chance again. Because who knew? Maybe she wouldn’t. And she didn’t want to think about that, so she kissed him harder, and Leonard kissed her back.

Finally, they parted. Leonard put his goggles on and pulled up his hood. They nodded to each other…and started, through the autumn darkness, toward the building

* * *

Somewhat to Sara’s surprise, Felicity headed through the parking lot toward them as they approached, her car apparently parked nearby. She bounced on her toes at the sight of Sara’s mask and Leonard’s full costume, then frowned.

“I want one!” she said in a stage whisper. “Damn. I should have thought of that.”

“Fliss...” Sara took a deep breath. “You don’t have to come with us. In fact, it’s probably better…”

“Stop.” Her friend held up a hand. “I’m going. Don’t argue. I have reasons. Important reasons.” She nodded firmly...and then turned and ran back toward the street.

Sara and Leonard exchanged a glance.

But Felicity was back in a few moments, holding a strip of red cloth...a scarf, Sara realized. She toyed with it a minute before shrugging and tying it over her own hair, then nodded.

“Best I can do,” she said. “Now what?”

Leonard just shook his head, then looked toward the building. “We go in,” he said, a little bleakly. “We find Merlyn. We...talk.” His lips twitch a little. “I think the best thing that can happen is that we get him going on a good ol’ fashioned villain monologue and get more information. Then use it.”

“And I talk to my dad,” Sara said firmly. “Merlyn might have a hold on him, but if we’re both right there...I bet I can get through.”

Leonard didn’t look convinced, but then, he didn’t exactly have a sterling example of fatherhood. Then he nodded, looking at Felicity, who was fussing with something on her jacket.

After a moment, though, she looked up and smiled at them.

“What are we waiting for?” she asked. “Let’s go!”

* * *

The office complex was dark and quiet. There were no security guards, which Sara frowned at, but maybe it was considered late enough that no one should be there. Given that her dad worked late most of the time, that didn’t sit right, but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She noticed Len frowning at the empty security desk too, but he apparently decided the same, nodding to himself, catching her eye and then moving down the hall.

As they approached her father’s office, Sara moved to the front of their little procession, letting her steps slow. But there was no light under the door, and it was silent within, and they all continued farther, toward Malcolm Merlyn’s office.

There was light there. Sara heard a low murmur of voices. She took a deep breath, looking at Leonard, who looked back steadily.

Then, he moved past her and abruptly shoved the door open, stepping inside, arm outstretched and ice twinkling around his fingertips, Sara on his heels and Felicity behind her.

And Malcolm Merlyn stood there. Smiling at them. A gun in his hand.

It was pointed at Sara’s father.

Sara froze. Quentin Lance was sitting in one of the leather armchairs in the office, staring back at her, fear in his eyes. She knew him well enough to know that it was for her, not for himself. His eyes flicked to Leonard, mouth dropping open a little, then to Felicity, whose scarf didn’t really conceal her identity at all.

He didn’t make a sound.

Merlyn, however, laughed.

“Well, well,” he said, tone jovial and completely unworried. “I was right. I thought you might be showing up, Ms. Lance.” He tilted his head toward Sara. “It is Ms. Lance, isn’t it?”

Sara glared at him. Merlyn laughed again, glancing at Leonard.

“And Mr. Cold,” he mused. “Or should I say, Mr. Snart?”

At that, Quentin Lance did make a tiny noise. Merlyn glanced at him.

“Oh yes,” he said, voice filled with humor. “Our Captain Cold is Leonard Snart. I’ve known that a while now. You realize now, don’t you? All those things he said, two years ago? True.” A shrug. “My fault. I didn’t know the brat had seen me. But when I told you and that bitch Moira that he lied, you believed me. Now, I had something to do with that. But still.”

Sara’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her father’s face pale. “Dinah,” was all he managed. Her mother’s name.

Merlyn’s eyes hardened. “I’m sorry for that,” he said a bit clinically. “It was supposed to be you, you know. I was going to replace you as commissioner with someone I wouldn't have to control quite so tightly. Lewis Snart thought it was going to be him.” A smirk. “That was never going to happen. But he didn’t know that. And then he _didn’t_ die in the quake like he was supposed to and made things even more complicated.”

He looked back at Leonard. “I have to thank you, young Mr. Snart. You actually helped undo some of the problems your father caused by getting caught.”

Leonard’s chin went up. His hand, now fully iced up, was still pointed at Merlyn, but his eyes remained on the gun, which remained aimed at Quentin.

Merlyn’s lips twitched. “Don’t like that, do you? Well, tough. I was going to blame the quake on a thoroughly mythical super—a villain, of course—and use that to start this ball rolling much earlier. But Lewis fucked up, set the damned thing off early and then escaped. They caught him, and found the remains of the device, and _that_ for my plans.” He shrugged. “Well, you came here and gave me a new supervillain to create.”

He glanced at Sara’s father. “Is it consolation, to know your daughter’s not working with a real supervillain? Almost everything blamed on him was pulled off by my people. Not the fire. But everything else.”

Felicity shifted a little, then, and Merlyn’s eyes darted to her. He considered her a moment.

“I,” he admitted, “have no idea who you are.”

Felicity frowned at him. “I,” she said in return, frostily, “am the hacker that got into your computer! You’re busted, Mr. Mayor. We know about your...your evil plan!”

Merlyn laughed. “Ah,” he said indulgently. “So it was you.” He nodded at the look on her face. “Once I realized someone was rummaging around in there, I made sure to make the text of the speech available. Figured it would bring Mr. Snart and potentially Ms. Lance here tonight.” He smirked at her squeak of indignation. “I mean, good hacking, really. Quite impressive. But you were played.”

If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, the outraged look at Felicity’s face might almost be funny. Sara allowed her eyes to roam the room. Merlyn was standing behind his desk, near his computer, as if keeping an eye on it. And...yes, there were a few of the wristlets on the desktop.

Sara studied them, then looked toward the windows on the other side of the room. The curtains were drawn, mostly, but there was a narrow strip of bare glass visible between them.

She thought she saw something move.

“It _is_ the correct text of the speech, actually,” Merlyn had continued, “but by the time I give it tomorrow, things will be..." He considered. “Different.”

And that’s when the Green Arrow came in through the window, glass shattering everywhere, the Black Canary on his heels.

Quentin jumped to his feet, and the room chilled as Leonard’s powers surged, but Merlyn was ready. He immediately trained the gun on Sara, who’d only taken a step, and reached out with his other hand toward the police commissioner, who froze.

So did Oliver and Laurel, the latter closing her mouth on the scream that’d started to emit from her throat. Oliver swept the arrow in his bow back and forth between Leonard and Merlyn, the conflict and confusion on his face visible even underneath hood and mask. Felicity took a step backward, turning slowly from side to side as if to take in the whole scene.

Merlyn merely chuckled.

“Ah,” he said, “and there’s the next piece of the puzzle. Hello, Ms. Lance, Mr. Queen. Yes, I know who you are. Your father,” he nodded to Quentin, whose eyes were tortured as he stared at Sara and the gun trained at her, “told me months ago. Figured the mayor of Star City should know about its protectors. Because I would certainly not misuse that information now, would I? I figured you’d make your way here tonight in some way.”

He nodded toward the wristlets, then. “Now, do us all a favor, Canary, Arrow, and put on one of those on. You too, Mr. Snart.” Then he turned his eyes toward Sara, and for all his levity, they were cold. Colder than Leonard had ever managed. “ _Now_. I don’t need the younger Ms. Lance, or her friend. I can afford to...lose them.”

Laurel took a shaky breath, then stepped forward. She glanced at Sara, eyes wide, then took a wristlet, opening it and clamping it around her wrist. The moment it closed, she made a tiny noise of pain, and Sara remembered what Barry had said about the experience.

Oliver hesitated, then followed suit. Leonard stared at Merlyn a moment longer, then did the same. The chill in the air immediately began to fade, and the mayor smiled again.

“Ah,” he said with satisfaction. “Good. Mr. Queen, Ms. Lance, you stay right there. Don’t move out of that spot, and that’s a command. See, I'm pretty sure you,” he nodded to Leonard, “at least, have figured out that I have powers of my own. I can...influence people. Cloud their minds a bit. Command them directly, if I’m close. It’s not a strong power, but I’ve trained it, learned how to use it. Still, it doesn’t work on supers.” He chuckled again. “See, I’ve studied our kind for years. I’ve overseen many experiments. Every wonder why there are relatively few supers in Star City?”

He nodded with a smirk at Leonard’s noise of understanding. “Well, there are. Or were. In my labs. It took time to come up with these little gadgets, but they inhibit powers—with one exception. And they open you to my influence. Especially when it comes to that exception.”

“How long?” Quentin rasped, staring at the man he’d thought of, Sara thought, as a friend.

Merlyn barely flicked a glance at him. “How I been controlling you? Oh, not too long. You see, the trick is to give people something they want anyway. And you wanted law and order in Star. And, yes, revenge for your wife.” He sighed. “I do get that. I didn’t mean...Tommy...to be there.” Another glance flicked toward Oliver. “I blame you for that, Mr. Queen. He shouldn’t have been there at all.”

Oliver went white, but Laurel glared at him. “You’re the one who planned it,” she snarled. “It’s on _you_.”

Merlyn actually shrugged. “That’s a point of view. Mr. Lance, you see, I didn’t really have to start leaning on you—except for the matter of young Mr. Snart’s accusations—much until recently, when you realized the scope of my plans. Then you balked.” He shook his head. “But I’m talking too much.”

“Villain monologue,” Felicity said to Sara in another whisper. But Merlyn ignored her.

“Anyway,” he continued, “that exception.” His smile put a chill into Sara’s heart. “Mr. Snart. Let’s test it with you.” He tapped his wrist, which had its own metal band, although this one had a golden cast to it. “This allows me to control others’ powers. Clever, yes?” He glanced around the room, taking in the three supers, then looked back to Leonard.

“Your girlfriend.” The smile grew. “Freeze her.”

And Leonard’s hand went up. Pointed at Sara’s heart.

Quentin Lance started pleading, as did Laurel, and Felicity and Oliver gasped. But Leonard didn’t make a sound. His eyes stared into Sara’s, and she took a quick breath, steeling herself.

Nothing happened.

Merlyn raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Cold,” he said thoughtfully, “I said, freeze her.”

Leonard’s lips were compressed into a thin line. His hand was shaking. And he continued to ignore the mayor.

“ _Freeze_ her!”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed...and his hand slowly, painfully contorted as he curled his fingers in on themselves.

“ _No_ ,” he said.

Sara glanced to the side in time to see an expression of disbelief and disturbance cross Malcolm Merlyn’s face. But then it was gone, impressed with cool indifference.

“Well, well...” he breathed. “All my testing and I didn’t find a single person who could resist these at all, let alone like that.” He glanced briefly at Quentin. “Apparently, he really does care for your daughter, Quentin. Charming. That’s some real Romeo and Juliet stuff, right there. Pity.”

And he whipped the gun to the side and shot Leonard in the shoulder.

Felicity screamed, but Sara was almost too stunned to make a sound. She started to go to her knees as Len crashed to the ground, but Merlyn had retrained the gun on her now. Laurel and Oliver, still frozen by Merlyn’s command, both cried out, Oliver swearing and Laurel using even more creative language. And Quentin’s jaw had dropped as he stared at the young man lying on the floor of the office.

Merlyn took a step forward and considered Leonard, who was curled around his shoulder, heel of his left hand pressed into the wound in his right, blood leaking out far too quickly, painting his parka and the floor around him scarlet.

“That’s going to be a bitch to clean up,” the mayor commented analytically. “And I hate disposing of bodies. Ah, well. And you know, one interesting thing I found in my studies of supers?” he mused. “They feel pain more strongly than so-called ‘regular people.’” He prodded Leonard with his foot, then, abruptly, dug the pointed toe of his dress shoe into the gunshot wound on the fallen hero’s shoulder.

Leonard cried out, a sound holding so much pain that Sara shuddered. Laurel had a hand over her mouth. Oliver was cursing. Quentin was still staring silently.

“Through and through,” Merlyn commented, now apparently addressing Leonard again. “That’d be good, if you had your healing factor. You don’t. Too bad.” He shook his head. “Well, now you’re disposed of. You served your purpose. You, or the specter of you, made the citizens of Star City willing to put up with measures they wouldn’t necessarily have accepted at all, before.”

He favored the room with another smile. “Tomorrow, between the TV cameras spreading my voice and powers throughout the city and some thoughts I have about boosting my powers with _your_ powers, my dear...” He gave Laurel a mock courtly bow, then laughed as she called him a particularly filthy name. “According to all my tests on powers like yours, you should be able to amplify others’ voices are well as your own. We don’t have long to work on that, but we’ll see.”

Sara heard Laurel and Oliver railing at Merlyn again, but she was still staring at Leonard. He’d tried to prop himself up, but failed miserably, breathing coming hard and pained and more blood staining his hand and his coat. He lifted his eyes, their blue seemingly faded, to Sara.

_No matter what happens here..._

“Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please.”

He seemed to be mouthing a word. Sara stared, trying to make it out.

_Smoke_? She sniffed the air...then smiled, grimly. How had he known? Or had he just hoped?

“Leave them alone.” Quentin Lance had finally regained command of his voice. “My girls...please. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Merlyn tossed him a grin. “Oh, you will anyway.” He dismissed the other man with a shrug. “Now, I need to do a test run. Something I can point out as an example tomorrow morning.” He started tapping at his computer with one hand, although the gun was still pointed at Sara and Felicity. Sara’s eyes narrowed. She sniffed the air again. The scent was stronger.

_Please be what...who...I think it is...._

“I have one of the miniature Markov devices planted out in the Glades,” Merlyn commented. “It’s remote enough that the quake won’t do much damage or cause much injury, _this_ time.” He shrugged. “Probably a little, but...eh. It’s the Glades. No one really cares.”

_Barry...Ray...all of you...please come through..._

“What?” Laurel demanded. “You haven’t even...”

“You bastard,” Oliver yelled at the same time.

“Do you smell smoke?” Sara asked innocently.

Merlyn's eyebrows went up as he looked at her...but he still hit one more computer key.

"We should feel it from here,” he said, glancing toward the windows. “In five...four...three...two...one.”

Nothing happened.

And then everything happened at once.

“What the hell?” Merlyn snarled, looking at the computer.

The siren of a fire truck soared outside, and Leonard let out a weak laugh.

Then, somehow, by a feat of will Sara couldn’t quite believe, he did manage to prop himself up on his other elbow, another surge of blood dying his blue parka. He glanced at her, and then his eyes narrowed as he looked across the room. Sara followed his gaze.

Right to Merlyn’s gun. He wasn’t paying attention to it anymore, and for the first time since they’d barged in here, it wasn’t pointed at anyone. Sara licked her lips, eyes narrowing again.

Her father, her sister, and Oliver were frozen more or less in place by Merlyn’s command. Leonard was bleeding out. Help was probably on the way, but it wasn’t here yet, and...

Merlyn hadn’t bothered putting his “whammy” on her. Normal Sara, no powers, not a threat.

Bullshit.

Sara _moved_.

She’d kicked the gun out of Merlyn’s hand before he even realized she was attacking, then aimed a blow toward his head, connecting. He grunted, falling back, and Sara followed, judging that the most important thing she could do was keep him so busy fending her off that he couldn’t focus enough to try to command the others to attack her or find the weapon.

This wasn’t one of the formal sparring bouts she was used to in competition. This was a bigger, heavily opponent who, it quickly became apparent, had more training than she’d realized. Sara aimed blow after blow at Merlyn, who overcame his original surprise and laughed, blocking them.

“Oh, the mouse has teeth,” he said indulgently. “Well, I underestimated you, but...”

He lashed out with a sweeping kick at her. Sara easily avoided it, then shook her other knife, a heavier piece of weaponry that Nyssa had given her, into her hand, slashing out at Merlyn’s face. He dodged, but his eyes were narrowed now.

He was starting to see her as a threat.

Good.

Sara jabbed the heel of her hand toward his face next, letting him grab her wrist, then used the momentum he gave her by jerking her forward to drive her knee into his groin. The big bad mayor doubled over, and Sara yanked her hand out of his grasp, reversing the situation and grabbing his own wrist. He swung at her with his other hand, but she ducked, then pinned his arm to the desk and bought the hilt of her dagger down on it, hard, right where she knew the microchips had been in the other wristlets.

Merlyn grunted in pain, and the metal dented. Sara hit it again. And again. And when one chip finally fell out, she used the knife to promptly crush it into sparkling bits of dust.

Released from Merlyn’s command, Oliver raised his bow and aimed the arrow he still had nocked, right at the mayor’s heart.

“Don’t,” he growled, “even think about moving.”

Sara stepped back and took a deep breath, then whirled as a new person exploded into the room, looking around.

“Snart!”

The young man had bare, scarred arms and hair buzzed close to his head, even closer than Leonard’s. His eyes fell on the motionless form of Leonard Snart on the floor and he growled. “Ah, damn it, you bastard,” he said, going to a knee. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in over your head?”

Then Mick Rory glanced up. “Which one of you’s Sara?”

Sara sunk to her knees next to him, ignoring the fact that her jeans were being coated in blood, and reached out to look for a pulse. It was there, thin and thready, and she felt tears come to her eyes.

“Me,” she said, lifting a hand to touch Leonard’s pale face. His eyes were closed.

Mick grunted. “Thanks, Blondie,” he said gruffly. “This un’ should’ve called me sooner, but he’s stubborn. And he takes too much blame for shit that ain’t his fault.”

“Don’t I know it?” Sara bit back a shaky laugh. “What...”

“I couldn’t get in before now, but I started a hell of a bonfire out there. There’s EMTs and everything.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly, ignoring the others in the room. “We’ll get this jerk to a hospital.”

“I think it’s too late.” His pulse was fading as they spoke. Sara motioned to the wristlet. “We need to get this thing off him so he can heal. Can you...”

Mick took a deep breath. “I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, picking up Leonard’s lax arm and putting a finger on either side of the wristband, moving it so a portion of the metal was away from skin. “This kinda fine work. But I’ll try.”

She felt the warmth of his fire powers rise, the opposite of Leonard’s chill, and the metal warmed, slowly starting to glow cherry red.

Behind them, Malcolm Merlyn laughed. “You do realize that I’ll still get away with this,” he said mockingly, smiling his insolent smile right at Oliver and Laurel. "All I have to do is flex my powers a bit. Claim you made it up. The police commissioner was corrupt all this time, and he dragged his whole family into it. Who knew?  The device didn’t even go off, and I’m the only one who knows precisely where all of them are anyway. For all anyone knows, you planted them, and everything else. A legion of supervillains! Oh my.”

That’s when Felicity laughed at him.

Sara and all the others stared, but the computer student stood in front of Merlyn with her arms crossed, a grin on her face.

“This has been streaming,” she taunted, pointing at a small metal object Sara had taken as a pin on her shoulder. “Live on Facebook and my blog. You gave your villain monologue to every social media follower I have, and more. And I have lots of followers.” She folded her arms and nodded, satisfied. “Hack _that_.”

Merlyn was still staring at her when one of his own silver wristbands—the ones that inhibited powers--was clamped around his other wrist. He looked down, then back up...right at the grim face of Quentin Lance.

“And _that_ ,” the police commissioner said grimly. “Malcom Merlyn, you are under arrest. You have the right...”

Sara took a deep breath, then looked back down at Leonard’s still form. Mick was still heating the metal of the wristband, occasionally testing to see if the metal would break or stretch yet, then continuing.

Len’s pulse slowed a little more. Sara closed her eyes.

She remembered that tentative boy in the hallway more than eight months ago, the arrogant super who’d followed her home from the Glades.

“Don’t die,” she begged him. “Don’t die. It’s over...your mission here. We can focus on other things. Come back.

“Leonard? Len?”


	9. Epilogue

**Eight months later**

Sara stood in line at the side of the stage at Kanigher-Broome High School, looking out over the crowd there for the graduation ceremony. Impossible, not to notice who wasn’t there. She bit her lip, then sighed, pushing the feelings away.

“Pomp and Circumstance” was done playing, now, and the administrators and some teachers were assembling to actually hand out the diplomas. Sara, as usual, was about halfway back in the procession. In the audience, she could see Laurel and Oliver, dealing with any number of well-wishers during the ceremony lull. Felicity’s streaming video had done a lot of good, but it’d also exposed their secret identities and they’d taken a bit of an earlier retirement from superheroing, though still establishing themselves as available as needed.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Laurel could actually finish her law degree, and Oliver, to Sara’s surprise, had decide to go to college too, majoring in political science. He was determined to be mayor of Star City one of these days. Sara looked forward to that.

Principal Hunter, on the stage, finally cleared his throat, and Sara looked up as the crowd quieted. His deputy principal (and, some said, girlfriend) Gideon Rider, rolled her eyes at him, then smiled, and announced the first name.

“Barry Allen, honors!”

Barry crossed the stage at a sedate pace, all things considered, accepting his diploma and shaking Hunter’s hand. His secret identity, at least, had remained secret. His parents and uncle, in the audience, applauded, as did Iris’ dad and brother, and Barry waved back, grinning.

Barry and his mentor, the Flash (who Sara now knew was his uncle, Jay Garrick) had carried Ray’s pulse devices all over the city, crisscrossing it until they’d covered the whole thing even before Merlyn had tried to activate the Markov device under the Glades. Sara and the others had been sworn to secrecy about the speedsters, and Sara was pretty sure Barry had gotten some grief for revealing his identity—but considering the situation, not too much.

The names continued, friends, acquaintances and others Sara barely knew at all. She waited, moving forward a step at a time, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.

“Nathaniel Heywood, honors!”

“Jefferson Jackson, honors!”

“Amaya Jiwe, honors!”

Jax and Amaya had managed to warn and evacuate a number of the people in the Glades. Even if Merlyn’s device had gone off, Sara thought, it was likely no one would have been killed. They’d earned accolades for that, and for their part in the whole thing. All of the group had.

Nate and Ray had helped track down the defunct Markov devices with some of the things they’d learned from the testing they’d done on the first one. Nate filming the experiments had helped after all.

One by one, students crossed the stage, claimed their diplomas, smiled for family and friends. And then:

“Sara Lance, honors!”

It was both satisfying and a bit unsettling how much the crowd cheered. Felicity’s video had made its more heroic subjects into celebrities, and a clip of Sara kicking Malcolm Merlyn’s ass had racked up an obscene amount of views of YouTube. Sara smiled, shaking Hunter’s hand and then scanning…

Her dad was there, after all. He hadn’t been before, but he was now, on his feet, clapping madly next to Laurel and Oliver. Something in Sara’s heart lightened immeasurably, and she beamed back at them.

Quentin Lance had taken the events at the City Hall offices hard. Unsure how many of his thoughts and actions over the past few years had been his own, he’d resigned as commissioner, although he did agree to take part in a task force helping run the city until the next election. He hadn’t slipped back into his workaholic ways, and Sara wondered now how much of that had been Merlyn, keeping him more isolated, apart from his family.

That man had a lot to answer for.

“Raymond Palmer, honors!”

Sara was actually a little concerned about Ray. His taste of heroism hadn’t dulled his appetite for it at all—rather the opposite.  She’d increasingly heard him talking about how non-supers could be heroes too. While Sara, of course, completely agreed, she also wasn’t sure that the exosuit he kept going on about was really a good idea.

Still. Star City did need some new heroes.

“Felicity Smoak, honors!”

The crowd roared again. Felicity’s hacking into City Hall and then broadcasting Malcolm Merlyn’s “villain monologue” to the world had made her famous--and while her grades and other activities had already been quite good enough to get her into the college of her choice, that had caused a number to fight to give her scholarships. MIT had won.

Sara would miss her. But she had her own plans for college.

The audience was buzzing. Sara, watching from the other side of the stage, smiled. And then...

“Leonard Snart, honors!”

If the crowd had cheered happily for the rest of them, it went absolutely wild now with cheers, applause and a healthy share of wolf whistles. Ollie, who’d been thoroughly impressed with Len’s actions at Merlyn’s office, let out a whoop. Even Quentin Lance was clapping loudly, a smile on his face…and so were the three people to his other side. Sara did a double-take. She recognized them.

Leonard, a small smile on his face even though Sara knew he wasn’t all that fond of the attention his exploits had gained him, crossed the stage, accepting his diploma with a dip of his head. He glanced toward her, his eyes lighting, and then out at the crowd…

Sara could tell the moment he saw his sister.

“Lenny!” Lisa yelled, hopping right up on her chair to wave before her foster mother made her get down. “Lenny!”

Leonard waved back, actually grinning, then continued toward the other side of stage, his eyes finding Sara’s again.

He had a small scar on his shoulder even after his healing factor had kicked in and the gunshot wound had healed, and Sara knew it still ached a little at times. But he’d gone from Star City supervillain and semi-outcast son of Star City’s most hated bad guy to its most beloved superhero, even though he’d taken a bit of an early retirement. Several community organizations had banded together to pay whatever of his upcoming college tuition and living expenses weren’t covered by scholarships, and Leonard had requested anything beyond go into a fund for other families affected by his father’s actions.

They were supposed to stay in alphabetic order as they moved back to their seats, but he ignored that rule, of course, moving to her side, reaching out to take her hand in his. The attention paid to how “romantic” it was that Leonard had managed to resist Merlyn’s order to kill her unsettled both of them (it was _weird_ to have strangers you’d never met “shipping” you) but their relationship had survived, and it had grown stronger.

Logically, Sara knew most high school relationships didn’t last. She hoped this one would. But no matter what, she was pretty sure that, no matter what form it continued in—love or friendship or partnership--their bond would be a lasting one.

“Iris West, honors!” was the last to be called, and Iris winked as she joined them. There was already speculation that the Star City newspaper might be up for Pulitzer contention for how well it had unpacked the whole rise of Malcolm Merlyn after the fact, and Iris, even before graduation, had been in the thick of that.

And then Principal Hunter was clearing his throat again, looking out at them. The class looked up at him, many reaching up to move the tassels on their caps, but Sara just smiled at Leonard, watching him smile back, as the principal announced “Ladies and gentleman, members of the community….I give you the Kanigher-Broome High School class of 2019!”

With shouts and yells and cries of glee, hundreds of grad caps were launched into the air. It had, Sara thought with amusement, been quite a year. But they’d made it through.

Somehow, they’d made it through.

* * *

There was one other face that hadn’t been in the crowd, but both Sara and Len saw it nearly as soon as they emerged onto the front lawn, where a sort of reception had been set up.

Mick Rory, looking uncomfortable in a dress shirt and pants, stood there, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but he actually smiled when he saw them, and Leonard suffered a bear hug that he didn’t even complain about much. Sara got along really well with Mick, but he still insisted on being a little formal with her—so she was quite pleased when she got a quick hug too.

Mick had been pardoned of the earlier charges against him and was now studying for his GED with Ray and Nate’s “help.” In fact, the latter two were moving in with Mick at the house that he and Leonard had once shared—and while Len bemoaned the state the place would probably be in when he visited, Sara thought it might be good for all three of them.

“Lenny!”

Leonard turned just in time for a 10-year-old girl to hurl herself into his arms. Sara smiled as he wrapped his arms around his sister, nodded to Lisa’s foster parents, whom she’d met a time or two, and turned toward her own father, who reached out and enveloped her in his arms.

For a long moment, he just held her, and Sara held him. Some of their wounds, she thought, were finally healing.

Eventually, Quentin Lance loosened his grip on his younger daughter, smiling down at her. “Baby, I’m so sorry I was late; their train was late getting in,” he said, waving toward Lisa and her foster family. “Figured they really had to be here. We wanted to surprise him.” He cleared his throat, downplaying it. “But, I did get to see you walk across the stage and get that diploma. I’m so proud of you.”

Then, a deep breath. “And your mom would be, too.”

Sara felt tears welling up. “Thanks, dad.”

Quentin Lance wasn’t precisely fond of the fact that his baby girl was moving to Central City for college, nor that her boyfriend (no matter how much he decided he actually liked the former delinquent) was going to the same school. But he was also proud, and that usually won out.

Sara had decided to major in social work and was going to be taking part in a special degree program that meant that she would be working with Central City University, STAR Labs there, and those friends of Amaya’s (a group called the Justice League of America that included both powered and nonpowered heroes), to create a support network for supers and a legal framework for their protection. Laurel would be helping with that, as would Oliver, via the Queen family fortune, and so would Leonard when he wasn’t busy with his own legal studies.

Malcom Merlyn had caused so much pain in the city. It would probably drive him nuts that he’d indirectly wound up causing so much good, too. Sara wondered if she could get someone to visit Iron Heights and tell him.

As Quentin wandered over to talk to Lisa and her foster family, and Ray and Nate came over to talk to Mick, and Laurel and Oliver quarreled good-naturedly about their own plans for an apartment together, Sara turned to see Leonard sauntering toward her. He’d already gotten rid of his cap and robe and looked quite handsome in his black dress shirt and pants, although she’d kidded him earlier about how he’d swelter in the June heat.

“I never swelter,” he’d drawled at her, using his “Captain Cold” voice for the first time in months. “I’m Cold.” Sara had rolled her eyes so hard they’d hurt, but she’d smiled, too.

He was smiling now.

“Are you OK?” he asked her, reaching out to put his hands on her arms, pulling her toward him. Sara studied him, then smiled back. It had certainly been a senior year to remember.

“I’m all right,” she said, quoting. “Really. Thanks.”

And Sara Lance kissed Leonard Snart there in full view of her family and friends and his, barely hearing her father sigh and Oliver and Mick wolf-whistle and Laurel and Lisa giggle.

It was, she thought, good to be her.


End file.
